A Numbers Game
by HeidiW
Summary: Lara Croft turns to a friend when presented with an opportunity to take down Trinity.
1. The Game's Afoot

A NUMBERS GAME

Chapter 1

Elsie leaned back and let her weight close the door behind her.

It had been a singularly long day; eight hours rarely seemed to crawl by so slowly.

She'd spent the walk home having to remind herself that she truly loved her work - surrounded as she was by so many rare and precious tomes, how could she not? She still buzzed with excitement when handling documents that once had passed through historic hands before hers - there were people who would give their eye teeth to trade places with her.

But sometimes…

There were days when she could just walk away from it all. The daily grind, the cataloging, the seemingly endless training of new staff, the necessity of generating revenue through the buying and selling of the collection. In fairness, Elsie was not at all adverse to the buying aspect - scouting potential additions to the Gallery was one of her passions - but the selling of same always pushed the blonde well out of her comfort zone.

 _Why do I always feel like a con artist...fuck, these things should sell themselves..._

She dropped her satchel to the floor and pushed off from the door. She'd almost passed by her living room without noticing the figure stretched out on her futon.

Elsie ogled the redhead.

"Doppie? What are you doing here?"

The doppelgänger glanced up from her book.

"I live here," said Doppie serenely. "I thought you knew."

"Smartass," shot back the blonde. "I meant, why are...oh, no...please don't tell me you've been fired again?!"

The doppelgänger arched a critical eyebrow. "You make it sound like a daily occurrence."

Elsie stomped her foot. "Doppieee!"

"I haven't been sacked," assured the redhead as she turned back to the book. "It's my day off."

Elsie let out a sigh of relief and ran her hand back through her hair.

"Oh, good...but I thought Monday was your day off?"

"I was asked to trade shifts," clarified the doppelgänger, flipping a page. "Alissa is working in my stead today."

Elsie huffed. "Well you could've mentioned that this morning!"

A faint smile. "And spare you the aggravation?"

"Oh, why you - just for that I'll cross pancakes off the grocery list."

"You do, and I'll wash your iPad."

Elsie drew in a sharp breath.

"You wouldn't dare."

Doppie pulled her gaze from the book and looked up at the blonde, her mouth slowly curving into an unsettling smile.

Elsie had a sudden vision of her tablet lying at the bottom of a stack of dishes, bubbles streaming from the speaker grilles.

"Argghhh, you harpy! Okay, pancakes are back on the list. Happy now?"

Doppie returned to her book. "I am."

The blonde quietly kicked herself; one day, she'd call the doppelgänger's bluffs.

When there was something altogether less expensive at play.

Elsie slowly sauntered to the end of the futon. She leaned over, crossing her arms over the doppelgänger's shoulders.

"I'm just glad you're here," breathed the blonde, caressing the redhead's cheek with her own. "It's been a long day…"

She could feel Doppie's cheekbone swell slightly in response.

"Would you like me to shorten it for you?"

"Nah…"

The blonde's gaze drifted to the pages splayed open on the doppelgänger's lap.

"So, watcha reading?"

"Greek Mythology. Rather banal, really...there's little here I wasn't already familiar with."

"So pick something else, no?"

"I'm almost done with your collection," returned the redhead. "It's decidedly biased towards Celtic cultures, I've noticed."

Elsie pressed the tip of her nose into the doppelgänger's cheek and smiled.

"Well…looks like someone's going to have to get a new hobby."

A muted grumble.

"I like reading."

"No shit."

The redhead set the book down across her abdomen.

"Could you not give me access to your workplace?"

Elsie pulled back slightly and blinked. "The Gallery? Doppie, we've talked about this, if Nathan were to see you -"

"He'd simply think I was Lara Croft," interjected the doppelgänger. "I fooled you, did I not?"

"Yes, and therein lies the problem," nodded the blonde. "Gellis knows you're living with me. If they were to compare notes..."

Doppie sighed. "Oh, very well, then."

Elsie gently brushed back the redhead's fringe. "Tell you what...this weekend, why don't we go out and get you your own tablet?"

An amused huff. "I've no need for such trinkets."

"You'd have the world's biggest library in the palm of your hand."

The redhead's eyebrows raised ever so slightly - but Elsie could detect the sudden spike in the doppelgänger's interest.

She grinned and pushed off from the futon.

"Just think about it, okay?" said the blonde as she made for the kitchen. "You've saved up more than enough..."

She was pouring herself a glass of milk when Doppie's voice drifted in from the living room.

"You received a package, by the way. I left it in the study."

Elsie leaned back against the counter and took a sip. _I haven't ordered anything...?_

"What is it?"

"I didn't deem to open it," returned the doppelgänger. "But it's from Surrey."

Elsie almost choked; she slammed the glass on the counter and bolted down the hall, not caring that she'd spilled most of the milk in her haste.

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I thought I had."

She scampered into her study, her eyes scanning the small room excitedly.

Nothing.

 _Okay, is she pulling my leg...?_

She was about to call out to the doppelgänger when her eyes finally fell on a small padded manila envelope propped up against the base of her monitor.

Grasping the tiny package, she smiled at the Royal Mail stamp affixed to the upper corner.

 _Yes!_

The contents didn't really matter; just being in the brunette's thoughts made her day. But she was more than a little curious.

She pulled the small tab, tearing the package open along its side. Squeezing the padded envelope along both spines she proceeded to tap it gently against the desk.

Out tumbled a small USB key, shortly followed by a small piece of folded paper.

 _Curiouser and curiouser..._

She grasped the note:

 _[Elsie,_

 _Call me at the number below when you get this. DO NOT plug the key into your computer._

 _And don't use your own phone._

 _\- Lara]_

"Don't use my own phone...are you serious?"

"What?" asked Doppie from down the hall.

"Um..."

 _Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in a Bourne film...?_

She scurried back to the living room.

"Can I borrow your cell?"

The doppelgänger did not look up. "Of course."

Elsie waited expectantly.

Doppie flipped a page.

The blonde fidgeted.

"So...yeah...phone..."

"I don't have it with me," returned the redhead. "It's in your nightstand, bottom drawer."

"In the nightstand? What's it doing in there?"

Doppie glanced at her over the top of the book. "I told you it was a frivolous purchase -"

"We'll talk about this another time," interjected the blonde as she shot down the hall.

"What was in your package?"

"Dunno yet!"

Elsie rummaged through the bottom of her nightstand and clamped her fingers around the near-pristine device. She thumbed the display.

The battery indicator was flashing red.

 _For fuck's sake, Doppie..._

She ran back to the living room. "Can you unlock this, please? And before it goes completely dead?"

The redhead slowly reached over and duly pressed her thumb to the screen, never pulling her gaze from the book.

Elsie ran back to her study and quickly plugged the phone into her charging cable, relieved it hadn't died en route.

 _Okay...now to see what this is all about..._

Propping the note against the monitor, she called the number Lara had scribbled.

Five rings. Six.

Followed by a muted click.

And then...nothing.

Had she lost the signal?

No...she could hear faint sounds in the background. Rapid, faint clicking.

 _Keyboarding...?_

But no voice in greeting. Yet there was definitely someone on the other end – apparently a mute.

And listening.

 _Okay, this is bizarre..._

She spoke tentatively. "Um...hello..?"

A familiar voice. "Elsie?"

"What the hell?!" exclaimed the blonde. "Way to answer your phone, you psycho! What gives?"

Someone laughed in the background - she was evidently on speakerphone.

She could hear the smile in Lara's voice: "Sorry...I wanted to be certain it was you before answering."

"What's with all the cloak and dagger? Is this your new phone number?"

"No, I'm borrowing Kaz's phone," replied the brunette. "Be sure to destroy that piece of paper, by the way."

"Kaz, is that the hacker girl you have working for you?"

"She doesn't _work_ for me -"

A faint voice: "Oh yes I do!"

A sigh from the brunette. "Well...maybe pro bono..."

Elsie leaned close to the phone. "How is she as a boss, Kaz?"

The woman in the background answered in an exaggerated cockney accent that would've done Dick Van Dyke proud: "A bloody slave driver, she is!"

"Kaz!"

"Just kidding," amended the hacker. "She's actually a sweetheart. Just hard to please, sometimes."

"Well, that's royalty for you."

"You got it, sister!"

"Bloody hell! I'm not - oh, bollocks to you both!"

Elsie laughed at the shock in Lara's voice.

"I'm just razzing ya, girl!"

"Can we get down to business, please?" pleaded the brunette. "This is important!"

Elsie pulled up her desk chair and flopped down. "Fine, so tell me why you sent me a USB key that you don't want me to look at..."

"I _do_ want you to look at it -"

"That's not what you said in your note!"

"Let me finish!"

"Okay!"

From Kaz: "God, you two..."

"I want you to disconnect your computer from your router," continued the archaeologist. "Then you can plug the key in."

Elsie hesitated, half disbelieving. "Are you serious?"

"I am," said Lara. "Kaz said it's unlikely they're monitoring your connection, but it's best to be safe -"

"Who's monitoring my connection? Those Trinity dudes?"

"They're not," emphasized Lara. "Or at least, they shouldn't be. As far as they know you're just a casual acquaintance of mine, and I want them to keep thinking that...the only ones who knew different are long since dead."

"So then, why so many precautions?"

"I don't want to take chances, Elsie, especially if you're involved. That's why I didn't e-mail you the contents of that key. I don't want it traced to you."

"Uh-huh..."

"Please go with me on this," pleaded the brunette. "I don't want you on their radar. Period. You've seen what they're capable of."

The blonde sighed. "Fine."

Elsie duly pinched the network cable from its socket and proceeded to plug the tiny device into a USB slot.

"Okay...let's see what you've got..."

"And when you're done," said Kaz from the background, "Go into your browser and delete your cache."

"What she said," echoed the archaeologist.

"Geez, you guys aren't kidding, are you?"

"No," said Lara seriously. "We're not."

Elsie selected the USB drive and double clicked the single file within.

"Whoa..."

Her monitor was instantly filled a texture that her trained eye recognized as aged parchment - vellum, from the look of it. She couldn't help but note that half the screen was taken up by what looked to be a tiny corner of a handwritten character.

"Um...was this photographed through an electron microscope?"

"Sorry," returned the brunette. "I wanted to make sure to capture all the details."

"Yeah, I think you got that..."

Fingers dancing over her mouse, Elsie zoomed out repeatedly until the full body of document's contents began to take shape - the oddly-shaped characters of an unknown language were splattered throughout the page.

It was definitely medieval parchment, lightly browned with age and perforated in places by bookworms. The blonde leaned closer, mesmerized by the strangely looping text; the characters were arranged in several groups of columns and seemed to imply some sort of mathematical formula.

The text was utterly undecipherable - but she'd seen such writing before. It was one of the Holy Grails for bibliophiles.

"Okay, I think I know what this is...Voynich Manuscript, right?"

"Good girl, Elsie," said Lara. "But you're not quite on it. Rather...it was part of the Manuscript.

The words hit Elsie like a thunderbolt. The Voynich Manuscript had long been known to be missing several pages from early on in its history - could she be looking at one of them?

The mysterious writing, the texture and obvious age of the vellum - everything matched.

"Lara...are you telling me this photograph wasn't taken from the existing book?"

"That's right."

"Holy shit...do you, um...do you have it with you?"

"I do."

Elsie slouched back in her chair and let out an astonished breath.

"Geezus, Lara...there are people who would -"

The blonde cut herself off and scowled.

\- kill for that thing. Crap.

"What?" asked the brunette.

"Nothing...just...be careful who you tell, okay? I don't even want to guess what it might be worth..."

"More than you know, Elsie."

Something in the brunette's tone intrigued the blonde. She pressed her toes against the feet of her chair and leaned closer.

"Tell me."

There was a pause.

"Lara?"

"You're aware of the Manuscript's history, yes?"

"You mean how no one's ever been able to crack the text? Of course."

"Good. This sheet...it's the key, Elsie.

"The key..."

It suddenly dawned on her.

"Holy shit...are you kidding me?"

"I'm not."

"Is this...that's the cipher!" exclaimed the blonde. "It is, isn't it? You can read it!"

A hesitation. "Well...not quite..."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to see that book."

"That's easy," said the blonde. "Yale has a digital copy of it on their site. Not in this kind of resolution, mind you, but plenty good enough for -"

"They don't."

Elsie blinked. "Sure they do. I've seen it."

"Not anymore," said Kaz from the background. "The links are down...have been for several days now. I've hacked into their database, whatever backups they might've had are also gone."

"Oh...well, I'm sure there will be pages on other sites."

"A few," conceded the brunette. "But mostly duplicates of the same few sheets, over and over. Elsie, there are over two hundred pages I can't see...I need the actual book."

Elsie felt a wave of moist coolness envelop her brow.

"So...I guess that's where I come in."

"I need your help," confirmed the archaeologist.

 _Shit...she has no idea what she's asking..._

"Um...have you thought about presenting that sheet to the University? They could translate the Manuscript for you -"

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"It's not that simple -"

Kaz: "Careful, Lara...need to know, remember?"

The brunette shot back almost snappishly: "I trust her with my life…bloody Hell, I'd trust her with _Sam's_ life."

"Oooo-kay...sorry..."

Elsie's breathing stilled.

"What's going on?"

The archaeologist took a deep breath and continued: "The subject matter of that book...it's not what it appears to be."

"You mean botany?"

"Exactly. It was meant to seem that way to the casual observer, for...reasons. But it contains something altogether more, well...explosive."

"Like what?"

"I...I'd feel much better telling you this in person..."

"I won't say no to that!" replied the blonde enthusiastically. "When would you like to come over?"

"Tomorrow, if you can manage it," replied the brunette instantly.

"Tomorrow..."

"Sorry for the short notice..."

Something caught in Elsie's throat. She hadn't expected _this_.

 _Holy crap..._

Gellis would not be happy; she'd be saddled with supervising the new interns...

 _But this is Lara, for fuck's sake..._

It was an easy decision.

"No problem," returned the blonde. "Just let me know when your flight gets here and I'll pick you up at the airport, 'kay?"

"Elsie...I hope you know this won't be a social call...I need to see that book."

"What...you mean tomorrow?"

"I know I'm asking a lot -"

"Lara, you have no idea!" exclaimed the blonde. "We can't just waltz in there! We won't be tourists dropping by for a casual look at the thing behind its glass case, you want full-blown access to it! That requires making a business case to the curator just to start the process, it can take weeks or months before we even get a response - "

"I don't have that luxury," interjected the Englishwoman. "There are...people out there..."

"Don't mince words. Trinity, right?"

"...yes...they may already suspect what I'm trying to do. I need to move quickly."

The American's shoulders sagged. Shit...

The brunette continued: "I thought...perhaps with your connections at the Gallery..."

Elsie swallowed at the enormity of the task she was undertaking. "We, uh...we don't have much of a business relationship with Yale. They tend to hang onto their stuff."

Lara's voice was tinged with emotion.

"I really hate asking this of you..."

 _Dammit..._

Whatever was going on, it was clearly of monumental importance to the brunette.

Elsie blew out her cheeks; she would not let her friend down.

"I'll figure something out," said the blonde finally. "I'll get you in there, someway, somehow...just get that perfect arse of yours over here, 'kay?"

"It really is gorgeous, isn't it?" remarked the hacker in the background.

"Kaz!"

"What? Hey, can't blame a girl for looking..."

Lara sighed.

"Elsie...I'm sorry, but...I need to ask another favour..."

The blonde's forehead hit the desktop with an audible _thunk_.

She began to giggle.

"Would you like fries with that?"

"I'm serious!" returned the archaeologist.

"Well, spit it out, then...want me to knock the Moon out of its orbit or something a little more challenging?"

"It...involves Doppie..."


	2. Ace in the Hole

A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 2

Rain splattered the cracked and chipped windshield, though calling it rain was perhaps a stretch, the consistency of the precipitation nearer to an insistent drizzle than a downpour. Even so, on the highway the rickety wipers were challenged to sweep the pocked glass clear - Elsie fervently hoped the vulcanized rubber strips would last the trip.

Overhead loomed an unbroken expanse of ashen skies, and while they shielded the two women from the worst of the late July sun, the pervasive humidity was making a point of underlining the car's lack of air conditioning. The necessity of driving with the top up and windows shut did nothing to ameliorate the situation.

But such inconveniences were only inconsequential gnats to the blonde - she was at Lara's side, embarked upon a quest!

She'd been stunned by the brunette's appearance at the airport: sporting a white buttoned shirt overlaid with charcoal jacket and matching skirt, Lara looked every bit the consummate professional. Even her usually barely controlled chestnut mane had been tamed for the occasion.

Hell, she was even wearing _heels,_ of all things - which convinced Elsie just how desperate the brunette was to get her hands on the Manuscript.

Elsie had not voiced it, but she knew the likelihood of two unknown young women marching straight into Yale to see the priceless artefact would almost certainly end in failure - no matter how sharply dressed they might be.

Lara seemed to sense it, as well - either that, or her atypical attire was causing her to fidget uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

The brunette stole yet another glance at the speedometer.

Elsie huffed. _Will you stop...?_

"Yale isn't exactly a traveling circus, you know," said the blonde in response. "It'll still be there."

The archaeologist's hands writhed in her lap. "Of course, it's just that...can you go at least a _little_ faster?"

Elsie sighed. "No, I can't."

The brunette leaned over and blatantly ogled the gauge cluster. "Seriously, Elsie, we're going ten under the speed limit!"

"I can't go any faster!" insisted the blonde.

A large truck in the passing lane threw up a huge spray that the wipers struggled to cope with.

"Now we've got bloody timber lorries overtaking us -"

"It's not a race!"

"Look, I'll pay for the bleeding tickets, if that's what's worrying you -"

"Oh, for - look, we have forty six horsepower and the aerodynamics of a brick, okay? I'm pushing my foot through the floor. We're at flank speed. Scotty himself couldn't squeeze any more out of her."

The brunette's expression was one of shock. "You can't be serious!?"

"You heard me," returned the American sharply. "That's all there is."

"Bloody hell, Elsie!" exploded the archaeologist. "You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?"

The blonde shot her passenger an irritated look. "What difference would it have made?"

"Well for one, we could've rented a _real_ car instead of being stuck in this sodding relic!"

"Oh, that's it!"

Elsie pitched the wheel to the right, swerving onto the highway's gravelled shoulder. She slammed the brakes, skidding to a stop just feet from the edge of one of the many expansive cornfields that lined New England's highways. Lara lurched forward and slapped the dashboard before flopping back into her seat.

"What are you _doing?_ " exclaimed the brunette. "Get moving!"

Elsie glared at the Englishwoman and twisted the ignition key for emphasis.

The engine shuddered momentarily before shutting down.

"We're not going anywhere," proclaimed the blonde. "Until _you_ calm down. I'm not going to spend the next three hours with a ranting side-seat driver."

Lara's eyes widened. "Elsie, this isn't the time!"

"Yeah, well you're making it the time!" shot back the American. "You need to back off!"

The archaeologist's wide-eyed gaze darted to the ignition.

Elsie quickly jerked the key from its slot and flipped the keychain to her left hand, away from the brunette.

"What the fuck, Lara? Are you going to knock me out and take off with me in the back seat?"

The notion seemed to shake the Englishwoman back to her senses.

"N-no...no, of course not," stammered Lara. "I wouldn't do that."

Elsie eyed her friend warily. "I'm not so sure...you're kind of scaring me right now..."

Lara blinked and swallowed, the near-crazed look in her eyes replaced by one of muted embarrassment. "I...I'm sorry..."

"You're obsessing," stated the blonde.

Lara turned her gaze to the rivulets slowly tricking down the windshield.

"With reason, Elsie," said the Englishwoman softly. "If only you knew what was at stake..."

"Well tell me, then!" pleaded the American. "We've got another three hours before we even get to New Haven, I don't want to spend all that time in the dark."

"I..."

"It's about those Trinity people, isn't it?"

The brunette's shoulders sagged. She nodded wearily.

"The book...has nothing to do with botany," affirmed the archaeologist.

"We'd covered that already," said Elsie. "Throw me a fucking bone, Lara."

The brunette made her decision and turned to her friend.

"I've...come into some information," began the Englishwoman, "That points to the Manuscript having been written in the early fifteenth century -"

"Nothing new there."

"- by a bishop of Florence."

Elsie blinked.

"Oh."

"Yes..."

"Do you...do you have a name?"

Lara shook her head.

"I've narrowed the list of possibilities to four," said the brunette. "But it's not such much who wrote it as to _what_ he wrote, Elsie..."

"Or commissioned to have it written," amended the blonde. "I doubt a bishop would've penned over two hundred pages himself."

"I think that in this case, he would have," returned the archaeologist. "The contents are altogether too explosive for him to have entrusted it to a common scribe. It would also explain the poor quality of the illustrations -"

"You keep saying explosive," interjected the American. "Why?"

Lara hesitated.

"Don't stop now!" implored Elsie.

The brunette bit her lower lip.

"Once you know this...you can never unknow it."

Elsie ignored the warning.

"For fuck's sake, just tell me already!"

The Englishwoman's gaze faltered.

"Hey, come on," said the blonde as she stroked the brunette's shoulder soothingly. "Who's gonna know? It's just the two of us out here..."

Lara looked at her.

"If they even _suspected..._ "

"They won't," countered the blonde. "Right now those Trinity people think you're in London. Hell, Doppie managed to fool even _me_..."

That elicited a slight twitch at the corner of the Englishwoman's mouth - by now Sam was taking the doppelgänger out on the town, ensuring the temporary brunette would be as conspicuous as possible.

Lara sighed. "Fair enough..."

She glanced down the highway behind them and drew in a deep breath.

"I believe that Trinity...has ties to the Vatican."

Elsie's eyebrows shot up.

"Whoa...you weren't kidding about explosive..."

"Thus the need for caution, Elsie."

"Um...just how high do these ties go? All the way?"

Lara shook her head. "I don't think so...from what I've gleaned they appear to be a dissatisfied faction headed by a trio of Cardinals."

"Ah. Hence, 'Trinity'?"

"Either that, or a reference to Scripture," agreed the brunette. "This bishop, he was a member...but he began to have misgivings."

Lara clamped her hand across Elsie's wrist.

"He turned against them, Elsie. And documented it. That's where the Manuscript comes in."

The American suddenly understood the book's importance.

"That's why he created that writing system, then? So that if anyone found his book he wouldn't get on their hit list for ratting on them."

Lara nodded.

"I believe he intended for the Manuscript to be deciphered after his death," continued the archaeologist. "He wrote the cipher that would crack it with the intention that it would be sent along with the book to a third party. Only...it appears neither did."

"Which third party?"

"I don't know," admitted the brunette. "I've only had access to a few pages online...I'm hoping the book will say."

She leaned close.

"But I'm convinced he intended to expose Trinity, Elsie, to bring them out of the shadows. They can't operate in the light. Once their existence becomes known to the outside world...that's it. They're finished."

"So...seems the Illuminati are alive and well," postulated the American.

"I need that book, Elsie," stated the archaeologist, the resolve clear in her voice.

The blonde slouched back in her seat. Things were more serious than she'd even allowed herself to imagine.

"Shit..."

Lara frowned. "What's wrong?"

Elsie drummed her fingers against the bottom of the steering wheel. "I just didn't realize how much was riding on this. Taking out an organization of violent zealots..."

"I'll never accomplish anything so long as they exist," clarified the brunette. "I'm either one step ahead of them or they ahead of me. So far I've been able to deny them the artifacts they seek, but...the reverse is also true."

The Englishwoman pressed on, her voice taking on a more somber note.

"This is bigger than me, Elsie. These people...they kill anyone who stands in their way, or who discovers anything about them. Taking out their operatives does nothing, they seem to have an inexhaustible supply. I've got to expose them."

Elsie looked at her friend.

"And...if you don't?"

Lara looked at her quizzically.

"What do you mean?"

"Lara, you have to understand there's a good chance - a _very_ good chance - we're not going to get to see that book."

"That's not an option for me," returned the brunette firmly.

"Like it or not, you may have to accept it," countered the blonde. "If they say no, then -"

"I either get a look at that book," said the archaeologist grimly, "Or I'm taking it."

Elsie's eyes swelled into saucers. "Don't even think it!"

"I will."

"Lara, you'll never get away with it!" countered the American. "You'll go to jail, for fuck's sake!"

"I've gotten past heavy security before...this will be no different."

Elsie exploded.

"I think it's a _little_ different - what are you going to do, you gonna go Rambo on Yale?!"

Grey and brown eyes locked. Lara's jaw clenched.

Only the light patter of rain on the car's canvas top marred the tense silence.

Elsie swallowed nervously. So much now hung in the balance.

She had to reach her friend - pull her away from the obsessed archaeologist she happened to share a body with. Keep her from destroying herself.

She reached out and trailed a finger down the brunette's sleeve.

"For one thing, you're hardly dressed for it..."

Lara's mouth opened slightly.

Elsie tilted her head slightly to one side and smiled.

"Let me handle this, 'kay? I can be very persuasive when I have to be."

The Englishwoman's eyes welled up.

Elsie bit her lip. "Oh, girl..."

The archaeologist lurched forward and wrapped her arms around the blonde.

"Gods, I love you so much," cried the brunette.

"Love you right back, girl," cooed the American, affectionately stroking her friend's nape.

"I just - I don't -"

"Shhh."

Elsie maintained the embrace, waiting patiently as the shaking in the brunette's shoulders slowly subsided.

Lara pulled back slightly, pressing her forehead to the blonde's.

"I need this, Elsie," she choked. "I have to stop them...no matter the cost to myself..."

The American gently cupped the Englishwoman's cheek.

"Girl, you know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you..."

The brunette squeezed her eyes shut and nodded slightly, her forehead rubbing against her companion's.

"...but I'll be damned if I let you throw your life away. If you try and force the issue this will become your _Kobayashi Maru._ "

The archaeologist drew in a shuddering breath.

Elsie drew back and reached behind her seat.

"Look, I brought something that might help..."

Grasping the briefcase she normally used for Gallery business, she rotated the combination dials and opened the latch.

"This is the Ace up my sleeve," explained the American as she pulled out an ornate leather folder and handed it to the archaeologist. "So to speak."

Lara wiped her eyes as she opened the docket.

She slowly scanned the gold-embossed document within. " ' _Distinguished Patron of the Paddington Gallery'_...I'm not sure I follow...?"

"It's something we give to important partners," explained the blonde. "It gives the recipient significant...well, perks. They get exclusive access to the entire collection, including their choice of loaned items, and that's just to start. It's very exclusive...only ten are ever in circulation at any given time."

Lara's gaze shifted down the document. "This one's made out to Yale University..."

Elsie nodded. "And now there are eleven."

The brunette looked up.

"How'd you get this?"

The blonde smiled. "I figured we might need a bargaining chip, so I went into work last night and printed it up. The Gallery does have significant pull in the industry, so..."

Lara's shoulders sagged. "Elsie...thank you so much for this."

"Well, it's for a good cause, right?"

The Englishwoman gazed at the certificate. "Eleven...how on Earth did you get Fletcher to agree to this without explaining the reason behind it?"

"Er..."

Lara's head shot up.

The blonde shrugged sheepishly. "He, uh...doesn't know."

Lara's eyes widened. "But...this has his signature..."

"Yeah...sure looks like it, huh? Fountain pen and everything."

Lara clasped her hand across her mouth.

"Oh, Elsie, no!"

"He'll honor it," explained the American quickly. "He will. He won't want to risk embarrassment to the Gallery, don't worry."

"But what about you? What's this going to...will you be sacked for this?"

Elsie shrugged again.

"Doesn't matter. If I'm not, then I'll quit. There's no way I could ever face Nathan after pulling something like this."

Lara closed the docket and handed it back to the blonde. "No. I can't let you do this."

"Lara, believe me, we'll need it and more," replied the American as she slipped the folder back into the briefcase. "They don't even know we're coming. If we're lucky this _might_ just cover the price of admission for a meeting with the curator, never mind getting to the Manuscript!"

The brunette looked aghast.

"Look, it's like you said," continued the blonde as she returned the case behind her seat. "This is bigger than either of us, right? We'll be saving lives, right?"

The archaeologist rubbed her arm uncomfortably. "I just...I'd much rather you didn't have to sacrifice your career."

Elsie smiled sadly.

"Don't worry about me," assured the blonde softly. "There are other jobs out there.

I'll find something."

She held an imaginary cell phone next to her ear and modulated her normally airy voice into a deep, gruff tone: "I have a very particular set of skills..."

"Elsie -"

"Look, it sure as hell beats you rotting in jail!" stated the American in exasperation. "So that's the plan and if you disagree I'm going to throw these keys into the goddamned cornfield, capiche?"

Lara's shocked eyes drifted from the clasped keys back to her companion's face.

"So now who's forcing the issue?"

"Yeah, well, _I'm_ doing it to prevent someone I love from destroying herself," stated the blonde.

She opened the driver's side door a few inches for emphasis.

"So we gonna do this my way," asked the American, "Or are we going to spend the next few hours crawling through a cornfield in the rain?"

She held the brunette's gaze, unblinking.

Lara seemed to realize there would be no arguing this particular point. She slouched back in her seat in capitulation.

"You have me over a proverbial barrel, young lady," growled the brunette.

Elsie ran her tongue along her upper lip and shot bedroom eyes at the archaeologist.

"Rawr. I kinda like the sound of that, actually..."

"Bugger, Elsie!" barked the Englishwoman in shock. "This isn't the time -"

"Promise me a boon?"

"Can we get going, _please?_ "

"Do I get a boon?"

"Okay, okay!" laughed the archaeologist. "You've got your boon...happy?"

"And we're doing this my way?"

"Oh, for - yes!"

Elsie slammed the door shut. "That's better."

"Maybe it's for the best," finally sighed the archaeologist as she fingered her lapel. "Sam would never let me hear the end of it if I got mud all over her favourite suit."

"I wondered about that," said the blonde as she twisted the ignition. "Those duds don't exactly suit you..."

"Thank you."

The starter wheezed and spun noisily.

"Oh, come on..."

Elsie held the key in the start position, pressing down ever so slightly on the accelerator to coax the carburetor.

The engine continued to churn noisily but obstinately refused to catch.

The blonde groaned in frustration.

"Oh no...not now...don't you do this to me now, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SH-"

"Elsie!"

The engine suddenly sputtered to life, the familiar stones-in-a-can rattling drowning out the gentle patter of rain against the canvas top. The American let out a breath of relief.

"There...see, you just need to know how to talk to her, is all..."

Lara arched a sceptical eyebrow.

Elsie threw the shifter in gear and popped the clutch.

She looked over to the brunette and grinned. "Let's burn rubber."

"Or in this case, gently simmer it."

"Oh, hush."


	3. Plan B

A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 3

NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT

 _The stone...look at all the freaking stone...!_

"These Ivy League places sure have a way of making one feel inadequate, don't they?"

"A perfectly sound education may be had in the most humble of places, Elsie."

The drizzle had long since dissipated by the time they'd reached New Haven, the overhanging carpet of grey having given way to a rather more optimistic mixture of blue and white. The midday sun punched through the scattered clouds to dazzle the imposing masonry of Yale's Old Campus.

Elsie drove slowly, the narrow streets squeezed further by endless rows of parked cars on either side. The faculty staff and students had a distressing habit of crossing anywhere and everywhere, seemingly daring traffic to run them over - which did nothing to hasten their progress.

"These people are worse than bloody meerkats."

"I was gonna say drunken lemurs, but okay..."

Elsie swatted away the brunette's attempt to punch the horn.

"G'way, you," admonished the blonde. "It doesn't work, anyhow."

"Why am I not surprised," sighed the brunette.

"Laraaa..."

"Sorry."

Elsie's butterflies were in full flutter. Her resolve to help her friend hadn't wavered, but she was intensely aware that a self-imposed career change was looming ever closer. She was coming up on one of life's major forks in the road, made infinitely more stressful by the fact she hadn't seen it coming.

She'd put on a brave face for Lara's benefit - the last thing she wanted was for the brunette to feel even more responsible than she undoubtedly would. She hoped her outward lack of concern would remove some of the weight from the archaeologist's shoulders: Lara undoubtedly had enough on her mind.

In the meantime, the American steeled herself to the inevitable.

She would start over.

But of more pressing concern was a large church, near cathedral-like in size and stature, looming directly ahead, blocking the way forward.

"Okay, where to?" asked the blonde.

Lara was concentrating on the phone in her palm.

"Keep straight another block."

"I can't," returned Elsie. "Not unless you want to crash a wedding."

Lara looked up. "Oh."

She frowned at Elsie's phone. "I think there's something wrong with your GPS."

"Dammit...I'm terrible at keeping my apps updated..."

The archaeologist quickly scrolled through the display.

"Okay, hang a left up ahead," instructed the Englishwoman. "The Library is just northwest of here."

The Beinecke Library - Elsie could scarcely believe she would soon be setting foot within its hallowed spaces. With over a million tomes to its credit it could accommodate the Gallery's entire collection five times over.

 _They have a Gutenberg Bible on permanent exhibit, for God's sake!_

But there would be no time for sightseeing.

The lights at the three-way intersection glowed red. Elsie gingerly applied her foot to the brake pedal and grimaced as the resulting squeal drew glances from nearby pedestrians. But significantly more embarrassing were the irritated stares from the wedding congregation directly across the street.

The blonde slid down her seat until the top of her head dipped below the windowsill.

"I doubt they'll think this is a self-driving car," remarked the archaeologist.

"I don't care," said Elsie from her temporary refuge. "Tell me when the lights turns green."

"They're green now."

The American popped back up and kicked the clutch -

\- and promptly slammed the brakes at the sight of the still-crimson lights, the car lurching into an inelegant stall.

Elsie ducked back down behind the dashboard. "You rat! You did that on purpose!"

Lara laughed, the rare sound doing much to check the American's anger.

"Sorry," said the brunette as she affectionately stroked the blonde's mane. "Guilty as charged...I was just trying to take your mind off things."

Elsie's shoulders drooped slightly. "Is it that obvious?"

"Truthfully? No. You do hide it well."

The blonde sighed as she restarted the engine, the familiar mechanical drone filling the cabin. "Stop worrying about me, I'll be fine."

"And if I asked _you_ not to have a care for me...?"

Elsie looked up at her companion and smiled sadly.

"'Kay. Point taken."

A thunderous honk from behind almost caused both women to hit their heads against the canvas top.

The blonde scrambled back into her seat and threw the car into gear. "Cripes! What is that, a train? I asked you to keep an eye on the lights!"

"Sorry!"

The car lurched forward. Elsie hung a left, glancing in her rear view mirror to see the large cargo truck behind turn off in the opposite direction.

Relieved to leave the impatient truck driver and wedding congregation behind her, Elsie now had to navigate the ever denser crowds of students.

"Oh, for crying out loud," lamented the blonde as she slowly crept along the teeming street, "There's sidewalks for a reason, people!"

Lara was tapping her foot impatiently. "Could we not walk from here? We'll get there faster on foot at this rate."

The blonde glanced at her passenger. "Why, afraid they might see us pull up in my car?"

Lara shifted uncomfortably. "I...I didn't mean -"

"Relax, I'm razzing ya," returned the blonde. "I was thinking the same thing...look, that guy's leaving..."

Elsie pointed to a car pulling out from the curb. The blonde squealed to a halt, biting her lip at the glances thrown her way. She deftly backed into the vacated space along the sidewalk, relieved to come to a comparatively silent stop.

The American joined her companion on the curb, handing the briefcase off to the brunette as she reached back and tied her long hair back into a bun.

"How do I look?"

Lara smiled as they set off. "Convincingly professional."

"Good," replied the American as she took her briefcase back from the archaeologist. "Though I gotta say this really isn't my style...I never get dolled up like this at work."

"You're managing the heels well enough," observed the brunette.

"Hockey gives you strong ankles. But these things are awkward as shit."

"On that, we are most definitely in agreement."

They continued on, edging past innumerable pedestrians and coping as best they could with their unaccustomed footwear; Elsie consoled herself that only a couple of blocks lay between them and their ultimate goal.

 _Hang in there, footsies..._

At the corner down the block the two young women turned right - and almost immediately came to a stop.

In the distance loomed the Beinecke Library, its geometric marble facade rising five stories from ground level.

But between them and their destination a large crowd had congregated. Through the occasional gaps in the mass of bodies Elsie could glimpse waist-high bands of yellow ribbon.

 _Police tape...? Please don't let it be police tape..._

Lara had evidently noticed the same thing.

"This isn't good," muttered the brunette under her breath.

"It might be just a fire drill or something," returned the blonde encouragingly. "No one's panicking, right?"

The brunette made for one of the park benches lining the sidewalk and clambered onto its wooden surface. And swore.

"Shit..."

Elsie joined the the archaeologist, the combination of skirt and heels making what would normally be an effortless movement awkward.

Cupping the brunette's shoulder for balance, she spied the tops of police cars beyond the crowd. Several law enforcement personnel were busy keeping the throngs of curious gawkers behind the tape.

She looked to her friend - no doubt the archaeologist was reaching the same conclusion.

The brunette was shaking her head in disbelief. "No...no, this isn't happening..."

The Englishwoman jumped to the sidewalk and burst into a run, the blonde following suit as best she could.

"Lara! Lara, wait!"

Elsie's sprint was hampered by the unaccustomed footwear - but thankfully so was the brunette's. The American was able to grab her companion's arm and drag her to a stop.

"Hold on!" beseeched the blonde, pulling her friend back from the back of the crowd. "Let's not go off half-cocked!"

"I need to get to that book!"

"Just wait a damned minute, will you? Dude! Hey, you!"

Elsie snagged a passerby by the strap of his shoulder bag, the freckled young man stumbling back in surprise.

The blonde wasted no preamble, knowing full well Lara would not wait for long. She nodded in the direction of the Library.

"What's happening over there?" 

The student's eyes darted between her and Lara.

"Uh...guess you didn't hear?"

"That's why I'm asking!"

A young woman to their right piped up.

"Someone broke into the Library last night," said the bespectacled student as she brushed by. "I heard a guard was shot...crazy shit."

"Most of the Old Campus was cordoned off till about an hour ago," said another passerby.

Elsie could sense the brunette's growing agitation - she was on the verge of losing her. She needed to get answers quickly, or the archaeologist would get them herself - possibly with disastrous results.

Up ahead several large vans with protruding antennas were parked on the curb and nearby lawn. At this distance Elsie had to squint to read the network logos plastered onto their sides.

"Uh...can I go now?"

The blonde released her grip on the young man's shoulder bag and whipped out her phone.

Lara edged a half step towards the crowd.

"Elsie -"

"Just a sec!"

She thumbed the CNN app.

"Oh, crap..."

Elsie moved to the brunette's side so both could read the headline.

 _YALE UNDER LOCKDOWN FOLLOWING OVERNIGHT INCURSION._

The blonde could almost feel the archaeologist's sudden drop in energy.

"Maybe...it's not what we think..."

She pressed the banner.

 _TWO SECURITY GUARDS SHOT._

 _The Beinecke Library on Yale's Old Campus was subject to a violent incursion earlier this morning. Law enforcement officials report two unmarked helicopters arrived over the campus shortly after midnight. Preliminary reports indicate a small team forced their way into the Library and quickly overpowered the two security guards on duty, one of which is currently in hospital in critical condition._

 _Chief Sanchez of the New Haven police stated the operation had clearly been carried out by professionals._

 _"This was not the work of common criminals. This was a methodically planned operation," said Conway._

 _Surveillance footage timestamps indicate the thieves departed within six minutes of entry, strongly suggesting the Library had been canvassed in the days prior to the intrusion. Among the priceless works reportedly seized were the Library's Gutenberg Bible, Voynich Manuscript and Vinland map, among others. Estimates of the total value of objects taken is impossible to ascertain at this early stage but is certainly in the tens of millions._

"Fuck...if they were - Lara?"

Elsie spun around. The brunette was no longer at her side.

 _What the hell?_

She spied the archaeologist several yards down the sidewalk, slowly trudging back in the direction they'd come.

"Lara? LARA!"

Elsie ran after her companion.

"Wait up!" exclaimed the blonde as she grasped the Englishwoman companion by the sleeve and forcing her to a stop. "Where are you going? There's more to the article -"

"I've seen enough," rasped the brunette.

The blonde pressed on. "Look, maybe...maybe the police have leads, maybe they left clues behind, where they've gone, who they were -"

Lara turned to face the American, brown eyes pained.

"They were bloody Trinity, Elsie!" snapped the brunette. "They're long gone! And so is the Manuscript...if it even still exists..."

The archeologist turned and sat down heavily on the park bench they'd stood upon a few minutes before, elbows on knees and hands tented together against her lips. She stared straight ahead, unseeing.

Elsie bit her lip.

She walked over and sat down next to her friend.

"Hey, come on," said the blonde, wrapping her arm around the archaeologist's shoulder and gently rocking the brunette. "The Lara I know wouldn't give up so easily. Hell, she wouldn't give up, period."

But the Englishwoman's mien had mutated from cautious optimism to emotional exhaustion.

She slowly shook her head.

"Maybe it's time I should," said the archaeologist, her voice hoarse. "I'm so tired of fighting them, Elsie..."

"You'll figure something out. You always have so far, right?"

A sigh.

"You don't understand."

Elsie squeezed her friend's shoulder.

"Then explain it to me."

The archaeologist was silent for a time, to the point the blonde began to think her request would be denied. But the brunette finally relented.

"All this business with Trinity...this isn't what I'd signed up for," said Lara, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't get into archaeology to fight some ever-present shadow organization for the rest of my life."

She looked at the blonde, anguish etched in the Englishwoman's deep brown eyes. "I wanted to make my mark, to make discoveries that people would talk about. To bring knowledge to the world. To have a _career_. Not _this_..."

Elsie pressed her knee against her companion's. "You have made your mark, girl, on me anyway. I know that doesn't count for much..."

Her words at least managed to drag out a slight smile from the brunette.

Elsie seized on the brief ripple of positivity.

"Look, you'll lick those dudes," said the blonde encouragingly. "I know you will. And then you can dig up old stuff to your heart's content. Make the news you _want_ to make, rather than having those goddamned tabloids make it for you."

But far from offering succor, Elsie was mortified to find her words have the opposite effect.

The brunette flopped back against the bench's backrest. "Elsie, they've existed for _centuries!_ I'm barely a blip on their radar...this was my one real chance of bringing them to their knees. To finally take them out of the picture. And now it's gone."

"Well...maybe there's a way you can get it back...Mom always told me that sometimes when we -"

"Wake up, Elsie!" snapped the brunette. "They obviously know what was in that book! They've either secreted it away to God-knows-where or more likely destroyed it by now!"

The blonde would not be dissuaded. "Look, you don't even know for sure it was those Trinity dudes. They took other stuff too, right? Maybe it was organized crime, the Manuscript just happened to get caught up in the heist -"

Lara shot up from the bench and stormed off, Elsie scurrying off in pursuit.

"Hey, wait -"

The brunette whirled on her. "Enough with the sodding sunshine! Stop trying to make it sound like everything will work itself out! Get your head out of the clouds!"

The blonde recoiled. She knew Lara was lashing out in frustration and she was simply within range of the fallout - but it still hurt as hell.

"I...I'm sorry..."

Lara glared at her. "All the bloody inspirational quotes in the world won't get me that book, Elsie! It was my ONE chance to finally make a real career for myself, get it through that perky blonde head of yours!"

Elsie bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

 _Okay, you..._

She raised her briefcase and held it before her at arm's length.

The reminder had the desired effect: Lara's eyes immediately softened in concert with her sagging shoulders.

"Don't think for a second you have the market cornered on lost careers," said the blonde painfully. "I've already kissed one goodbye was willing to lose another, even though I knew it would give you no more than a snowball's chance in Hell."

The blonde set off for the car.

"Elsie -"

The American whirled on the brunette in turn.

"And you know what the worst part is, Lara?" asked Elsie in a strained voice, "I'd do it all again in a fucking heartbeat. God, I'm such a loser."

"Y-you're not -"

"Come on," said the American as she turned her back on her companion. "I imagine you'll be wanting to get back home..."

With the brunette following at a discreet distance, Elsie finally allowed her tears to break their banks.

~oOo~

The drive back was excruciating. And not solely due to the stifling midday heat.

The two young women sat in awkward silence, the blonde countering the archaeologist's occasional attempts at conversation with monosyllabic grunts.

Elsie knew she was being immature; the better part of her desperately wanted to make up with the brunette. But it was being kept in check by the devil on her shoulder, incessantly repeating the Englishwoman's hurtful words.

Eventually Lara gave up trying to converse. It was only when a service station loomed in the distance did she finally break her silence.

"Stop here, please."

Maintaining her gaze on the highway, Elsie allowed herself a single word in response - though she ensured it was uttered with the utmost apathy.

"Why?"

"I have to go."

The blonde sighed. "Fine."

Elsie guided the car into the gravel lot, kicking up dust as she slowed to a stop - she hadn't even pulled the handbrake by the time brunette's feet touched the ground.

Elsie kept the car running; in the stifling heat, there was no guarantee it would start up again. Getting stranded in the middle of nowhere with Lara right now was not an appealing prospect.

She slouched back in her seat, watching as the brunette disappeared into the station. Two hours into their return trip, and she was almost sick to her stomach.

 _How long will you keep this up, Elsie...how long before you start doing real damage...?_

She took a deep breath and whipped out her phone.

 _No service...naturally..._

She opted for a game of Scrabble against the computer to change her mindset.

A couple of rounds later - both losses - she began glancing at the station.

 _What's she doing in there...?_

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

 _I'll give her one more round._

A third consecutive defeat finally convinced the blonde that her mind was not on the game.

And still no archaeologist.

 _Dammit..._

Did she dare go inside and leave the car running? True, theirs was currently the only car in the lot, but...

 _You'd better not leave me high and dry._

She shut off the ignition.

She made her way across the lot, cursing herself for not bringing along a pair of sneakers as she navigated the gravel in the unaccustomed heels. She was grateful she still had untwisted ankles once she'd reached the station's door.

Inside, the service station looked echoed its exterior facade - old, run-down and not exactly clean. Johnny Cash was crackling over the radio.

The balding man behind the counter looked up from his newspaper.

"Afternoon, missy. Looking for your friend?"

"Yeah, where's your - never mind," replied the blonde, eyeing the bathroom sign.

Behind a magazine rack and out of sight of the proprietor, she pressed her ear to the door of the women's washroom.

But she could hear nothing over Johnny Cash's baritone drone.

 _Oh my God...she didn't leave through a back window, did she? Shit!_

She opened the door a hand's breath.

To her relief, the brunette came into view.

Lara was leaning against the bathroom counter, hands splayed out against its dingy surface to either side of the sink. Her head hung low, her shoulders rising and falling in rhythm with her shuddering breaths.

The mirror directly before the archaeologist he been shattered, a spiderweb of fractures emanating from it's centre. Given the dilapidated state of the washroom Elsie wouldn't have given it a second thought, but the glass shards scattered on the floor around Lara's feet raised alarm bells - which were made louder by the splattered crimson dotting the porcelain basin.

The American's stomach lurched; the compassionate Elsie finally broke out of her spiteful self's chokehold.

 _Oh no...oh, Lara, girl, no..._

She pushed her way into the washroom, the squeak of the door filling the small room.

Lara's head popped up; for a moment their gazes locked via the shattered mirror.

The archaeologist's eyes were reddened.

The Englishwoman quickly pushed off from the counter and made her way to the paper dispenser, hastily palming her cheeks - the brunette's right hand was clumsily wrapped in what appeared to be layers of blood-soaked toilet paper.

"Sorry," croaked the archaeologist in a voice clearly intended to sound nonchalant - and failing. "Didn't realize I was taking so long..."

Lara hadn't finished pulling a sheet from the dispenser when she found herself enveloped from behind.

"I'm so sorry!" cried Elsie, clutching the brunette to her. "Please forgive me...I can be such a jerk sometimes..."

She could feel the stiffness in the archaeologist melt.

"Elsie, You have _nothing_ to apologize for," rasped the Englishwoman as she covered the blonde enveloping arms with her uninjured hand, "There _is_ a jerk in the room...only it's not blonde."

Elsie's sobs were broken by an awkward laugh. "Well...from one jerk to another...I'm glad we're talking..."

Lara turned to face her companion.

"Elsie...what I said...was unforgivable."

"Don't," replied the blonde as she caressed the archaeologist's cheek. "Okay? You were lashing out at the world and I caught some of the shrapnel, is all."

Lara's gaze dropped to her companion's collarbone. "I just get so angry sometimes...the red mist tends to descend..."

"I noticed," said the American while gently stroking archaeologist's ponytail. "I'll make a note not to use hot water when you're in the shower."

It was Lara's turn to laugh awkwardly.

Elsie drew closer and whispered into the brunette's ear.

"I'm on your side, thick and thin. You mean everything to me, girl."

The brunette broke out into a teary smile.

"I can't imagine what I've done to deserve you."

"'Deserve's not nuttin' to do with it'," said Elsie, pulling back to brush stray chestnut locks from the brunette's face. "Shit just happens sometimes..."

She glanced down. "Speaking of which -"

She grasped the Englishwoman's wrist and held up the injured hand for inspection.

"Geez, what a mess..."

Elsie gingerly peeled back layers of matted toilet paper to reveal still-bleeding cuts scarring the back of the archaeologist's fingers.

She carefully ran her index across the undulating ridge of the Englishwoman's bruised knuckles. "Is anything broken?"

Lara shook her head while palming her cheeks with her free hand. "Well...apart from the mirror."

Elsie ducked into a stall and yanked out a fresh bundle of toilet paper.

"There's a first aid kit in the car," said the blonde as she began reapplying the improvised dressing. "We need to get some rubbing alcohol on that, no telling what you might've picked up in here...warning you, though, it'll sting as all get out."

The brunette eyed her companion with concern.

"Elsie...you know I didn't mean what I said...yes?"

"Of course I do."

"Seriously, I -"

"Just stop it, okay?" interjected the blonde as she finished applying the temporary bandage. "This is really my fault, anyway."

"Of course it isn't!"

"It is," insisted Elsie firmly. "I knew you didn't mean that shit, but I still reacted like a freaking ten year-old...if I'd displayed even an ounce of maturity your hand wouldn't look like it's gone through a blender."

"Elsie, this is _not_ your fau -"

"Yes. It is. And you'll never convince me otherwise."

Lara's gaze faltered.

"I suppose...this hasn't exactly been our finest hour, has it?"

Elsie smiled. "Well...we've had better."

A thought occurred to the blonde.

"Lara...why don't you stay for a couple of days? Take your mind off things."

The archaeologist tentatively raised her gaze. "You would invite an ungrateful skank into your flat?"

The American chuckled. "In a New York minute...come on, waddya say?"

"That's...so tempting, Elsie," returned the brunette. "But I can't. I need to meet my contact tomorrow, the one who'se been deciphering the few pages available to us. I need to fill him in, and also warn him...he may be in danger."

"Oh," returned the American, slightly deflated. "Okay, so...rain check, then?"

"Yes," replied the brunette, smiling softly. "Definitely rain cheque."

On their way out the blonde slipped two twenty-dollar notes before the bemused attendant - which elicited a protest from the brunette once they were in the parking lot.

"For God's sake, Elsie! At least let me reimburse you for _half_ -"

"Half, heck, I have no idea what those mirrors cost, and I wasn't about to ask. Tell you what, next time you break something you can pick up the tab."

Lara suddenly became very quiet.

Elsie did a double take as she opened the car's bonnet. "You okay?"

"Yes...yes, of course," said the brunette sheepishly.

Elsie pulled out her first aid kit and proceeded to treat the Englishwoman's injured hand, grimacing in concert with the archaeologist while she poured the alcohol over the gashes.

"Sorry," breathed the blonde.

"It's...not so bad," rasped Lara.

Once she'd completed her ministrations the blonde returned the first aid kit to its nook and closed the hood with a loud _clank_.

"Elsie -"

The blonde turned back to her companion.

Lara's mouth was open, seemingly frozen in mid-speech.

Elsie tilted her head. "Yeeesss?"

The brief glimmer of hope that had briefly fluttered in her friend's brown brown eyes had vanished.

"No," finally croaked the brunette, shoulders drooping. "No, I've already asked entirely too much of you."

"Oh no you don't! Spill them beans, girl!"

Lara hesitated.

"Come on!" insisted the blonde, drawing closer. "If there's another way I can help -"

"Come with me."

Elsie blinked. "Say again?"

"Come with me," repeated the archaeologist, coming to stand before the blonde.

The American was still unsure she'd heard right. "You want me to go with you...to your meeting with that dude?"

Lara shook her head.

"No, silly," explained the Englishwoman, "You can stay with Sam and Doppie at the flat. I'll be back by morning."

"Annnnd...then what?"

Beautiful brown eyes searched her own.

"We just... _go_."

"Go... _where?_ "

"Anywhere," voiced the brunette. "Wherever the wind takes us...you mentioned you always wanted to visit Scotland, yes?"

"Well...sure," replied the blonde. "Mom was born there, but...Lara, are you serious?"

The archaeologist shrugged slightly. "Recent events have conspired to...clear my schedule, as it were..."

Elsie gaped at her companion. "Oh my God...is Lara Croft actually being spontaneous?"

The Englishwoman's brief foray into whimsy quickly gave way to vacillation. "Of course...I wouldn't want you to get in trouble at work..."

"Trouble?" returned Elsie. "You're kidding, right? This'll just irritate a few people, is all. I'm still way ahead."

She pressed against the brunette and grasped the Englishwoman's uninjured hand.

"Please tell me this is happening," breathed Elsie, grey eyes supplicating. "Oh, please tell me we're doing this..."

Lara reached behind the American and gently tugged on her knot of hair, freeing the blonde's long mane from its restraining bun.

She pressed her forehead to Elsie's and smiled, the tips of their noses nudging together.

"As I recall, you mentioned something about a boon...?"


	4. Two Hundred And Six Bones

A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 4

PORTLAND, MAINE

Elsie dropped the carry-on along the wall.

"Okay, I'm set. I'll be under the limit, easy."

Lara pushed off from the corner chair and returned her book to the shelf.

"Your boss wasn't too brassed off, I hope?"

The blonde shook her head. "Nah. It went better than I expected, actually...she said some time off would do me good. Guess I've been kinda feeling it lately..."

Elsie gave the brunette a once over. "You gonna fly back in that?"

"Of course," returned Lara, fingering her lapel. "I brought no change of clothes - it's this or my birthday suit."

Elsie licked her bottom lip. "Well, that'd be one way to speed through airport screening."

Lara shot her a dirty look.

"Kidding!" laughed the blonde, moving off to power up her PC. "But seriously, though, you look about as comfortable as a Luddite at E3 in those duds."

Lara sighed. "That's not much of an exaggeration...I feel so constricted in this."

"Would you like to change into something of mine?"

The brunette mulled the offer. "Well...if it's not too much trouble?"

"No trouble - hey, how about something of Doppie's? Guaranteed to be a perfect fit."

Lara hesitated. "Do you think she'd mind?"

Elsie chuckled as she bent over and keyed in her password. "You're kidding, right? She won't care if she's short an outfit - she has zero interest in fashion."

"If you're absolutely sure..."

Bolting from her desk, the blonde clasped the archaeologist's hand and led her to the bedroom.

"Here," said the American as the closet door opened with its ever-present squeak. "Her stuff is on that side...grab whatever you like."

"You're certain she won't mind...?"

"Just do it!" exclaimed Elsie in an exaggerated Germanic accent. "Do it now!"

Lara stared at her blankly.

"Oh, for - just grab something, will ya," lamented the blonde as she left the bedroom, not noticing the sly smile crossing the brunette's features.

Back in her study Elsie navigated to Portland's airport website.

She called out to the bedroom. "Grab some shoes too while you're at it. There's another carry-on on the shelf for your stuff."

"Thank you."

"I'm checking to see if there's any cancellations on your flight...otherwise I might have to catch up with you in London."

"I'd prefer we go together, if possible," called back the Englishwoman, the metallic sliding and clinking of clothes hangers drifting down the hallway. "I can take a later flight if need be."

Shortly thereafter the archaeologist returned to the study clad in a cinnamon tank top, khaki trousers, and a pair of well-worn hiking shoes.

Elsie briefly turned from the screen to give the brunette a once over.

"Now, doesn't that feel better?"

"It does," breathed the archaeologist, dropping her bag next to Elsie's. "And you were right, it almost feels as though I've worn these before. I'm a little curious, though."

Elsie continued to scroll through the flight lists. "What about?"

Lara slid onto the desk corner. "Didn't you mention Doppie has no interest in fashion?"

"That's right," returned the American. "Why?"

"One of her tops in there..."

Elsie clicked on the 7:15 departure. _Rats._

"Her tops?"

"One of them is rather...well, daring," probed the brunette. "One might even say provocative. That neckline..."

The blonde's toes reflexively pushed against the chair's casters.

"May she just wanted something a little fancier for special occasions," offered the blonde, careful to keep her tone carefully measured.

She could feel Lara's eyes on her.

"I see. So, she picked it out herself, did she?"

Elsie's toes curled further.

"What do you mean?"

The blonde caught herself scrolling entirely too quickly. Swearing inwardly, she jumped to the top of the page and began again.

"That top was her choice, then?" repeated the archaeologist.

"Um, well...I might've helped a little..."

"Only 'helped'?"

 _Dammit..._

Elsie swung her chair around and faced the brunette.

"Okay, Miss Spanish Inquisition, what exactly are you accusing me of?"

Lara was looking at her with a peculiar expression - one might even say subtly concealed amusement.

"There's no need to get defensive," said the archaeologist.

"I'm _not_ being def...shit..."

Lara swallowed her bottom lip, her brown eyes twinkling.

"You were saying?"

Elsie swallowed nervously.

"Okay, look, I j-just...I was only trying to...oh, what the hell..."

The blonde slouched back in her chair, defeated. "Fine. Yeah, okay, you got me. I got it for the eye candy. Total Lust-o-Rama. Happy now?"

Lara leaned in and mussed the blonde's fringe. "My Elsie's a growing girl."

"Look, I'm hardly a prude!" protested the American.

"Certainly not," agreed the brunette.

"I'm as human as the next girl!"

"Absolutely."

"I have...needs...!"

"Of course."

Elsie cupped a hand over her mouth. "No, wait, that didn't sound right. I didn't mean that I - I've never touched her! I mean, I have, but not like - arrgghhh!"

"I understand completely."

"Look, I'm not _forcing_ her to wear the damn thing!"

"It's her own choice, clearly," nodded Lara serenely.

"Quit that!"

"Quit what?"

"Stop agreeing with me! Especially in that patronizing tone!"

"I do apologize."

Elsie unconsciously ran her hand up and down her thigh and struggled to slow her breathing to a level more typical of someone who hadn't just sprinted up a flight of stairs.

"Look...she...she gets bigger tips when she wears it, she told me so herself. So it's not like she doesn't benefit, okay?"

"Bigger tips for bigger t-"

"Hey! It's not like that!"

"Isn't it? You just said -"

"She's not selling herself!"

"Only the viewing rights."

"Yes! _No!_ "

Elsie huffed.

"Look, if anything it's your own fault for having those...those...those goddamned things in the first place," blurted the blonde, nodding at the Englishwoman's chest. "So...so j-just..."

Lara slid off the desk. "You still keep milk in your fridge, yes?"

"Just - what? Uh, yeah, sure..."

The American sat in stunned silence as the brunette left the room.

She drew the back of her hand across her brow and frowned at the collected moisture.

 _Why am I getting so worked up...?_

She felt a sudden pang of guilt as she wiped her hand on her trousers.

 _Oh, who am I kidding? Lara's right...I'm no better than those whistling construction dudes. I'm a pig...fuck..._

Elsie let out a long breath. She resolved to talk to the doppelgänger upon her return. Come clean.

She turned back to the monitor.

A large glass of cold milk was dangled before her, blocking her view of the screen.

"Uh...is that for me...?"

"You looked like you could use it," replied the archaeologist as the blonde grasped the proffered drink. "You were getting a little flush there."

Elsie gratefully took in the cold sweetness - whole milk had an almost supernatural ability to settle her nerves.

"Thanks," gasped the blonde between gulps.

She could feel the brunette's chin come to rest atop her shoulder.

Elsie closed her eyes and drank, basking in the brunette's closeness.

"Mmmm..."

"Better?"

"Mm-hmm," cooed the blonde, caressing the brunette's cheek with her own.

Lara's arms slipped around her shoulders.

"I've run you through the wringer today haven't I?" said the Englishwoman softly. "I'm sorry for that."

"That's okay," breathed Elsie as she nuzzled the brunette's cheekbone. "This more than makes up for it...God, you feel so good..."

The archaeologist squeezed the blonde affectionately.

"When we get across the pond...what say we work on those 'needs' of yours..."

The American's heart skipped. She melted against the brunette, her lips feathering the archaeologist's smooth skin - she breathed in the Englishwoman's scent.

"I so wanna break those laws of physics with you, girl," she whispered, slowly tracing the inch-long scar that graced the archaeologist's cheekbone with the tip of her nose.

Lara smiled.

"We'll give it a good go, Elsie..."

~ oOo ~

The departure from Elsie's flat had instilled in the blonde an odd mix of excitement and apprehension. She couldn't for the life of her understand why: she'd been away from home countless times before. She'd be back in a matter of days besides that.

She set the nagging sensation aside and concentrated on navigating through Portland's downtown core.

 _Okay, first things first..._

Across the street the setting sun had set the strip mall's familiar placard aglow.

"Do you mind if we stop for a bite?" asked the American. "I _loathe_ airplane food."

Lara glanced at her watch. "I don't see why not, we have time."

Elsie switched lanes and pulled into the strip mall's parking lot, backing into a vacant spot directly across from the _Burger Shack_.

"Oh...burgers," voiced Lara unexcitedly. "I didn't realize this is what you meant..."

"It's not," said the American as she yanked the parking brake. "Looky there."

Lara followed the blonde's finger. Next to the _Burger Shack_ stood a small convenience store, almost lost between the greasy spoon and the hardware store.

The brunette shifted uncomfortably. "Er...no offense Elsie, but a burger is suddenly looking rather tempting."

"Now, now, don't be an elitist," admonished Elsie as she cracked open the driver's side door.

Lara cocked an eyebrow. "For preferring a burger over...what, a bag of crisps?"

Elsie brushed back the chestnut locks obscuring her companion's ear. "Look, I know it doesn't look like much, but they have the best sundaes this side of the Mississippi. Trust me on this, 'kay?."

"That's quite the claim," remarked the archaeologist. "You've sampled every establishment, I take it?"

Elsie swung her feet over the doorsill. "Smart ass."

Inside the convenience store a handful of people were lined up at the counter, the two teenaged girls in front currently in the process of ordering. Behind them stood an older woman, bottles of Schweppes filling the small basket dangling from her fingers. A young man seemingly listening to music on his earbuds brought up the rear.

Elsie and Lara slipped to the back of the line. The brunette gazed at the placard behind the counter listing the various flavours.

"Hmm...what do you recommend?" asked the Englishwoman as the lineup slowly grew behind them.

"My personal fav is butterscotch, it's the bomb," returned the American. "But you can't really go wrong. They use Häagen-Dazs here, none of that synthetic corn syrup crap."

"Butterscotch, eh..."

There was some confusion at the counter as the clerk had to re-input the teens' order.

"No, one strawberry _and_ one banana, no banana split...they're separate..."

Elsie guided her arm around the brunette's waist and snuggled against the archaeologist.

She smiled at her companion. "Just think, in a couple of days we'll taking in the Highlands together. Who would've thought?"

Lara smiled in turn. "Hopefully we'll be taking in more than just the sights..."

Elsie's grey eyes sparkled. "Mmm, I'm liking the sound of that."

She leaned closer and gently pressed her lips to the brunette's.

 _Love you girl..._

"Oh, for fuck's sake," interjected a gruff voice from behind. "Enough with the dyke show already!"

Elsie startled as Lara pulled back abruptly, her face quickly flushing.

"Hey, what - "

The blonde turned to the source of the interruption: behind them stood a large man sporting a scruffy beard, a well-worn Yankees baseball cap and Harley Davidson T-shirt.

Unnervingly, the man was eyeing her with undisguised contempt.

"Oh, sorry for turning your stomach," shot back the blonde sarcastically. "I didn't realize we were in Russia."

"Shut your trap, girl," growled the man. "If you know what's good for you."

"Elsie -"

The blonde bristled. "Screw off, microbrain! It's not like we were making out on the damn counter!"

The man's eyes flashed. "I told you to shut your yap, you fucking cunt!"

Elsie recoiled, the words striking her with almost physical force. She looked to the people in line around them: all wore distinctly uncomfortable expressions, but also seemed determined to avoid entangling themselves. The only thing remotely approximating an intervention was from the clerk behind the counter.

"People, keep it civil, please..."

The man ignored the clerk's plea: "You've got your own goddamned parades now, what more do you fucktards want?"

Elsie slammed her foot against the floor. "Oh, I dunno, how about the right NOT to be called _'fucking_ _cunts'?_ "

"People, please!"

The man took a half-step forward, testing Elsie's resolve: he loomed a good eight inches over the blonde and likely doubled her in weight. But Elsie's fires had been stoked - she held her ground, barely noticing Lara edge closer.

"I advise you to step back," warned the brunette, her voice dark. Elsie recognized the tone - it was a request in name only.

The man paid no heed. "If it were up to me I'd have you all rounded up and shipped off to Iran...at least _they_ know how to deal with goddamned freaks."

"Oh, you fucking Neanderthal!" snapped the blonde hotly. "Aren't you missing out on some gator-shooting festival somewhere?"

The man's large hand clasped over Elsie's face and shoved, hard. It had happened so suddenly she'd had no time to react, stumbling back and toppling over a candy rack.

A cry from behind in the line.

"Dude! Not cool!"

Elsie crashed to the floor, candies, chocolate bars and gum packs scattering in all directions. Though the rack had prevented her from impacting directly with the floor, it had extracted a painful fee for its service by jabbing her with its numerous edges and protrusions.

 _Fuck!  
_

More loud crashing noises; for an instant Elsie worried she'd set off a chain reaction of toppling racks before realizing the cacophony stemmed not from behind but in front.

Someone screamed as one of the teenaged girls knelt down next to her, blue eyes filled with concern.

"Hey, are you alright?"

She helped Elsie push off from the rack.

"Yeah, just a little -"

Sounds of an altercation filled the blonde's ears.

"You little bitch, I'll - ow!"

"People! Stop it right now!"

"Oof!"

The sound of shattering glass.

"Somebody call the cops!"

Elsie scrambled to her feet and gaped at the scene before her.

 _Holy shit..._

The brute was leaned back against the counter, the brunette's forearm jammed firmly against his throat. His feet scuffed repeatedly against the floor as the archaeologist held the shattered end of a Schweppes bottle under his nose. Squashed sundaes trickled down the counter's facade to pool at the floor.

"No longer in a talkative mood, are we?" growled the archaeologist.

The customers gaped at the sight of the slight brunette pinning the much larger man.

"That's...wow," breathed Elsie's awestruck benefactor.

The clerk behind the counter held the store phone's receiver and hesitated.

"I'll sue you, bitch," choked the scarlet-faced brute. "I know peop-gak!"

Lara drove her forearm harder, cutting off the man's diatribe.

"The only reason you're still breathing is because I don't want it weighing on my friend's conscience," snarled the Englishwoman. "Now get out."

The archaeologist shoved the man towards the door and stood back, holding the broken bottle at her side.

"LARA!"

Far from leaving, the brute lunged forward, throwing a roundhouse punch that the brunette easily dodged before countering with an elbow to the man's face.

Elsie could hear the crunch of bone as the man staggered back.

"Arrgghh!"

"Stop it you two! Get out of here right now!"

The brute clutched his crumpled proboscis, crimson droplets marking the floor at his feet.

"You broke my node, bitch!"

"That leaves two hundred and five," countered Lara dryly.

The man stepped forward and jabbed a thick finger dangerously near Lara's nose.

"If you think this is over you've got anot -"

It was a mistake. The archaeologist's hand shot out and grabbed the offending finger with lightning speed. She jerked her arm violently down and up.

There was a discernible _crack_.

The man jerked his hand back, his index finger protruding at an unnatural angle.

"Fuck! You Limey dyke!"

"STOP IT PEOPLE!"

"Two hundred and four," intoned Lara, her eyes blazing.

The man glared at her but seemed oddly reluctant to intimidate the brunette through physical proximity. "I hope you're loaded, bitch! Because I'm gonna take you for everything you have!"

"No you won't."

The second teenager, a young Indian girl, drew forward with her smartphone at the ready. "You try anything and I'll upload all this to YouTube...maybe the cops would be interested in seeing it, too."

The brute glared at her. "You little fucker!"

"Get out!" barked the clerk behind the counter, waving the store phone's handset for emphasis. "Get the hell out or I call the cops right now! Last warning!"

The brute turned his fury-filled gaze at Lara.

"One more word," warned the brunette ominously, "And it'll be two hundred and three."

The man swallowed his retort, scarlet-faced though he was. He glared at Lara for several moments before he finally drawing off to pick his baseball cap off the floor.

He stormed out of the store, the door swinging so violently Elsie thought it might pop off its hinges.

The blonde hurried to her friend.

"Hey...you okay?"

Lara nodded. "You?"

"Yeah, just a scrape," returned Elsie, shaking her hand. "Damn, girl, I'm beginning to understand where Doppie gets her bad-assness from..."

"Okay, you two," voiced the clerk, "Out!"

Elsie spun around, disbelieving. "Us? Are you kidding me?"

The man behind the counter would hear none of it. "I'm going to have to work overtime cleaning your mess - now OUT!"

Lara took the blonde by the elbow. "Come on, Elsie..."

"But...but..."

The brunette paused outside the door, scanning the parking lot in case the brute had decided to loiter.

"I can't believe he threw us out!" lamented the blonde. "Since when is defending oneself a crime punishable by exile?"

Lara ushered Elsie towards the car. "Come on...we'll grab a bite on the plane."

Once ensconced in the driver's seat the blonde flopped against the steering wheel. "Fuck..."

Lara stroked the American's mane. "Hey...I hope that tosser hasn't rattled you...?"

Elsie sighed, her cheek resting on the horn cover. "He's hardly the first troglodyte I've come across. I just get so sick and tired of having to fight for what everyone else takes for granted."

She smiled at the brunette. "Speaking of fighting, you were incredible in there, by the way..."

Lara slipped her hand under the blonde's mane and drew slow circles between her companion's shoulder blades.

"Believe me he got off easy," said the brunette softly. "Are you absolutely sure you're all right?"

The blonde shrugged. "I will be. I'll just never understand blind hatred, you know?"

The brunette nodded sadly. "There seems to be a lot of that going around of late."

Elsie pushed off from the steering and flopped back in her seat.

"And now airplane food, to boot. I hate going on an empty stomach, Lara...hunger pangs remind me too much of...you know..."

The archaeologist bit her lip.

"Well...why don't we -"

Lara's reply was cut short by the young Indian girl from the store running up to the car, a sundae clutched in each hand.

"Whew!" said the girl as she handed the confections to the blonde. "I wasn't sure I'd catch you before you left...butterscotch, right?"

Elsie took the proffered treats gratefully. "Oh my God, you didn't have to do this! That's so sweet!"

The girl chuckled. "After what happened in there, you guys deserve it and them some. Sibby - Sybil - wanted to come say hi but we told the clerk we'd help with the cleanup in exchange for a couple of free sundaes, so..."

She offered her hand. "Name's Amelia, by the way. You can call me Mimi."

"Elsie," echoed the blonde, shaking the girl's hand. "This is Lara."

Lara and Mimi exchanged waves.

"You were awesome in there," said Mimi, smiling at the brunette. "Like Supergirl with an attitude. Loved it."

"Thank you," replied the Englishwoman, "Amelia...that's a lovely name."

"You think so?" beamed the girl. "I was named after Amelia Earhart...only I hate to fly, go figure..."

She stood back and gave Elsie's car a good once over.

"Hey, cool car, by the way! Never seen a convertible like this before!"

Elsie turned to the brunette and grinned. Lara stuck her tongue inside her cheek.

"Anyway, your sundaes won't last long in this heat so I'll let you get at them...enjoy!"

"Thanks Amel - Mimi!"

The girl gave them a friendly wave before scurrying back inside.

"See," said Elsie as she plunged the plastic spoon into the confection, "There's still beautiful people out there, after all."

"I know," voiced the brunette softly. "I was fortunate enough to come across one three years ago."

Elsie's heartstrings danced.

"Damn, girl," returned the blonde.

She spooned a helping of butterscotch-coated ice cream and brought it to the brunette's lips.

"Here..."

Lara raised an eyebrow. "You do realize they're the sa-"

Elsie waited for the right syllable and deftly slipped her spoon into the Englishwoman's mouth.

"Come on," grinned the blonde as the brunette stared back at her. "Eat up..."

Elsie pressed two fingers under Lara's chin and gently lifted. The archaeologist did not resist as her lips closed around the spoon's plastic shaft.

"Atta girl," cooed the blonde as she slowly withdrew the utensil, Lara processing the dairy and sugars sliding around in her mouth.

"There you go...see, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Elsie suddenly found herself face to face with a reciprocal spoonful.

"What?"

"Your turn," said the Englishwoman.

"It's no one's _turn_ , silly, I was juoomph -"

Elsie blinked, rolling her tongue over the lump of ice cream carried in by the plastic intruder.

Brown and grey eyes locked as Lara slowly withdrew her spoon.

The two young women continued their improvised rite, spooning their confections into each other's mouths with almost ritualistic deliberateness.

"You know this is slightly barmy, yes?" asked Lara after several exchanges. "We have the same sundaes, after all."

"Absolutely," nodded Elsie, raising a fresh helping of butterscotch-laced ice cream to the Englishwoman's mouth. "It's completely nonsensical."

"Well then, I'm glad we...um..."

"Come on, girl," encouraged the blonde, her voice a bare whisper as she gently prodded the tip of her spoon into the brunette's plush bottom lip. "You can do this."

Elsie noted a subtle reaction in the archaeologist – far from overt and likely unnoticeable to almost anyone else, but definitely there. She would ascribe to it a label of amused disbelief.

She nudged the spoon upward, lodging its tip in the soft valley between the Englishwoman's upper and lower lips.

"Atta girl..."

Lara sighed.

But duly opened her mouth.


	5. Scotland

A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 5

THE SCOTTISH BORDERS

At the time, it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable bet.

After all the forecast had called for only a slight chance of light drizzle, and intermittent at that. Nothing any self-respecting Englishwoman would be concerned about. Easy peasy.

Of course, that was before the placid grey skies had treacherously unleashed the downpour that was currently beating down on the two young women.

Lara silently cursed their decision not to bring rain gear; they'd opted to travel light, navigating the narrow country roads on her father's old motorcycle. They'd pressed on in the hopes the rain would be a passing affair - another miss.

As a consequence the brunette was drenched to the bone: she fervently hoped that the old oilcloth bags draped over the rear fender hadn't lost their water-repellent properties.

Elsie, to her credit, had continued to clutch to the brunette from behind without complaint, though Lara knew full well she had to be equally drenched.

Pangs of guilt riddled the Englishwoman; she'd hoped their impromptu Scottish holiday would - at least in part - help make up for Lara's shoddy behaviour two days prior.

It was not a great start.

She'd kicked herself vehemently since that shameful day. Her friend had been prepared to sacrifice her career to increase Lara's chances from none to slim; she hadn't deserved Lara's tirade.

Maybe there was something to the blonde's subsequent speculation, after all.

 _You know, sometimes I think you're not happy unless you're miserable._

Lara had denied the statement out of course - but deep down she was worried the American could be onto something.

Since Yamatai Lara had taken precious little time to savor the little joys in life; and on those rare occasions when she had, she'd invariably experienced guilt pangs - whether due to perceived idleness, or something else entirely, was a question that needed posing.

She shuddered at the possible answers.

In the meantime, there was another question that needed addressing.

Namely, lovemaking. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Elsie's albatross.

Since their disastrous interlude the previous year Lara had been hesitant to initiate, fearful of inadvertently triggering horrid memories in the blonde. She'd been content to let Elsie proceed at her own pace.

It had led to numerous cuddling sessions; beautiful moments all, to be sure. Her friend was nothing if not a wonderful snuggler.

But they'd never progressed to anything more...intense.

The brunette had begun to wonder about something the blonde had once said.

 _I'm damaged goods, Lara..._

At the time the brunette had violently rebuked the notion out of hand. But now...

Lara shook off the thought, her heart twisting painfully. No, her friend was most definitely _not_ 'damaged'. Certainly not in the sense of being unworthy of lovemaking.

...but what about incapable?

Lara worried the psychological wounds inflicted upon the blonde might never heal.

She wondered if Elsie had ever experienced sexual gratification at another's hand. She'd experienced sex - but its context had been beyond horrific. Had the ghastly events of her childhood forever closed that door to her?

The archaeologist bit her lip; it was a door that Lara would have to pry open with the utmost care.

Flames flickered in her soul.

 _That bastard..._

For now at least, her concerns were more immediate.

There was no question of continuing their travels in the current conditions. They had to find shelter, and soon: the insistent deluge was threatening to transform the sand and gravel road into something more akin to the quagmire of Passchendaele.

Lara found herself silently longing for Elsie's old Volkswagen.

Her rain-splattered visor made the search for suitable shelter challenging. It didn't help that the hedgerows framing the narrow path made it virtually impossible to take stock of their environment, the thorn-topped earthworks blocking their view of the surrounding countryside.

The archaeologist slowed as they came up to another sharp bend. She leaned into the turn -

\- and swung violently to the left, barely dodging an applejack Mini careening wildly around the bend, the crazed driver shooting past without so much as a glance in their direction.

 _Fuck!_

Lara fought to bring the motorcycle back under control, nearly gasping at the ratchet-like tightening of Elsie's arms around her waist.

The front wheel finally bit into the soft gravel, the motorcycle narrowly avoiding plunging headfirst into the hedgerow.

 _Bloody Wanker!_

The brunette briefly considered chasing down the tosser in the Mini but quickly thought better of it - they desperately needed to get in the dry.

She pressed on.

A few hundred yards on a building loomed through a roadside break in the hedgerows. A sign hung from an iron bracket in front - Lara couldn't make out the writing through her splattered visor, but at this point it was a case of any port in a storm.

 _Good enough._

She pulled into the narrow lot, taking little note of the complete lack of other vehicles out front. The motorcycle had barely come to a halt when Elsie clambered off and made a beeline for the front door. Lara unhooked the carry bags from the rear fender and followed at a run.

Elsie was waiting at the door. "What is this place?"

Lara shot by the American and thumbed the latch, the two young women quickly scampering inside.

Lara dropped the bags to the floor and removed her helmet, the blonde doing likewise. Intensely relieved to finally be out of the downpour, the brunette surveyed her surroundings.

They were standing in a small landing, a quaint parlour immediately to their right. A narrow hallway before them led off to what Lara surmised was a kitchen.

This was no inn, nor pub. It was someone's home.

"You know, we should've knocked," said the blonde in a low voice, her long blonde hair damp with moisture. "Feels weird just barging in like this...who lives here, anyway?"

"I've no idea," returned the brunette, slowly shaking her head.

Elsie did a double take.

"Say again?" exclaimed the blonde in a shrill whisper. "I thought that's why you stopped here!"

Lara nodded to the door. "Would you rather we go back outside?"

The blonde pressed her hands to either side of her matted hair. "Oh my God, we're breaking and entering!"

"We haven't broken anything," countered the Englishwoman.

"Well, trespassing then -"

Lara called out.

"Hello? Is anyone homphh -"

Elsie clasped her hand over the brunette's mouth.

"What are you doing? Let's get out of here!"

Lara pulled the blonde's arm away from her face.

"Stop it," said the Englishwoman. "We're in Britain, remember. People don't shoot trespassers here."

"We - we should at least go back outside and knock -"

The brunette moved to the door and rapped loudly on the inner woodwork.

"Happy?"

Elsie fidgeted in nervous anticipation. "I'll tell them I'm American...in this day and age they'll probably assume I don't know any better...yeah, they might buy that..."

But there was no response from the home's denizens - wherever they were.

"Maybe no one's home?" mused the brunette.

"But the door was unlocked..."

A fleeting movement from the kitchen caught Lara's eye.

"Hello?"

Elsie grabbed the archaeologist's arm. "They're hiding...let's get out of here, for God's sake -"

But Lara shook off her companion's grip and slowly advanced down the hall.

"Lara, what are you _doing?_ You're getting water all over the floor!"

The brunette waved her companion to be quiet, even though she inwardly conceded the blonde had a point. But she moved forward regardless.

"If you get shot I'm going to be so pissed!" hissed Elsie.

Lara couldn't quite stifle a grin, even as she tensed at the kitchen's entrance.

She leaned in.

At the far end of the surprisingly long kitchen stood a figure.

Or rather, danced a figure, the woman's hips swaying back and forth to some silent rhythm.

"Er...excuse me?"

There was no reaction.

Lara moved into the kitchen. The woman had her back to her, facing the window as she worked over a sinkful of dishes. It was at this point that the brunette detected the faint muffled hum of music. _Earbuds!_

They'd been concealed underneath the woman's shoulder-length crop of salt and pepper hair. Lara reached out -

\- just as the woman turned, clutching a towel full of dried cutlery.

The woman's green eyes widened in surprise.

Lara jerked her hand back.

The woman let out a yelp.

There was a metallic crash as cutlery hit the floor.

The brunette held out both hands, palms facing the woman.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!"

There followed a brief pause before the woman burst into laughter.

Lara slowly lowered her hands as Elsie's rapid footfalls echoed behind her.

"What's happened?"

The woman removed her earbuds. "Criminy, you frightened me half to death!"

"I'm so sorry," repeated the archaeologist earnestly. "I didn't mean -"

The woman gave Lara and Elsie a quick once over. "Look at you two! Ye look like refugees off the blooming Titanic!"

Blonde and brunette glanced at each other.

"I guess we do kinda look like drowned rats, don't we?" said Elsie.

"That'll be my doin'," said the woman, her eyes apologetic. "I shouldn't have made you wait outside on a day like this, but normally I can feel the vibration when guests pull in...I dinnae know how I could've missed it..."

"We're going by motorcycle," explained the archaeologist.

Lily's eyebrows rose. "Och...not the best day for it, eh?"

Elsie dropped to one knee and began collecting the the scattered cutlery.

"In retrospect, maybe motorcycling through Britain was just asking for it."

Lara stepped forward. "I apologize for the intrusion, we thought this was -"

" _You_ thought," interrupted the blonde.

"- this was a pub or an inn...I hadn't realized it was someone's residence."

The woman smiled.

"You're not far off, dear. This is a B&B."

Lara blinked. "Oh...!"

The woman extended her hand. "Lily's the name, by the way."

"Lara," echoed the brunette, the American introducing herself after she'd dropped the cutlery into the sink.

"Sorry for getting your floors wet," said Elsie, nudging her companion. "But _some_ of us decided it might be a good idea to go wandering around someone's home."

Lily waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, no harm done. I canna blame ye for not wanting to stand out in this weather."

"Thank you," said the archaeologist, arching an eyebrow at her companion.

Lily stood back and looked at the two young women. "Now then, why don't we get you two in the dry?"

"Yes, please!" exclaimed the blonde gratefully. "Everything's chaffing!"

Lara rolled her eyes. "Elsie..."

"Right, then..."

The proprietor proceeded to strike the floor with her right foot three times in succession.

"Help is on the way," smiled the green-eyed woman. "So, what say supper at seven?"

Lara hesitated. "Er...we don't want to impose..."

"Oh, rubbish," said the woman, casting her hand downwards for emphasis. "We haven't had guests all week, company would be right lovely."

"Well, since you put it that way," replied the brunette.

"Thank you," echoed the American.

An idea flashed in the archaeologist's mind.

"I was wondering, if you happen to -"

"I'm allergic to haggis!" blurted Elsie, anticipating the Englishwoman.

"No, you're not."

"Am too!" insisted the blonde frantically, clasping her hands in supplication as she addressed the proprietor. "Deathly allergic! I blow up like a balloon!"

"To haggis?" queried Lily. "Ye mean to an ingredient, aye? I can always make it without -"

"No, the whole thing!" said the American. "When they all mix together, I become allergic -"

"That is utter bollocks!" proclaimed Lara.

"It's true!"

"Ah," said the grey-haired woman, understanding. "Don't have the stomach for it, eh, dearie? Don't fret yer pretty little head, there'll be no haggis tonight."

"Thank you!"

"Bugger," returned the brunette, disappointed.

Elsie fired an angry glance at her companion. "You witch!"

"And here I thought _you_ were the heathen," muttered the archaeologist.

"Stop trying to stuff me with animal guts!"

"There be witches...?"

Lara turned at the new voice. At the entrance to the kitchen stood a pretty young woman the brunette estimated to be in her late teens, coiffed in long raven-black hair which contrasted strikingly with the girl's sky blue eyes.

"Customers, mum?" exclaimed the girl brightly.

"Aye," confirmed Lily. She turned to the archaeologist. "Ye'll be staying the night, yes?"

Elsie and Lara shared a questioning gaze.

"I think that would be wise," suggested the brunette.

"No argument here," agreed the blonde.

"It's settled, then," announced the proprietor as she handed her charges over to the girl. "Ivy will show ye to your rooms - ye do have a change of clothes, yes?"

"We do," affirmed Lara, though if their travel bags had lost their water repellent properties it would be a moot point.

"Ivy, eh," mulled Elsie, looking from daughter to mother. "Do I detect a bit of a floral trend?"

Lily smiled. "Me mum is Rose."

Elsie grinned. "Of course."

"Come on, then," prodded the girl as she led her charges from the kitchen. Lara picked up their helmets and tin cloth bags at the door before following the young woman up a narrow staircase to the second floor.

"Where are ye going, anyway?" asked Ivy once they'd reached the top of the stairs. "Not the best day to be biking about."

"Nowhere in particular," answered the blonde, smiling at her companion. "Just giving in to wanderlust, you could say."

The raven-haired girl led them down the hall. "Those are the best holidays...so, one room or two?"

"One is fine," replied Elsie.

Ivy ushered her charges into the first room on the left. "Righto then."

Lara looked at their accommodation: it was a typical countryside B&B's bedroom, festooned with quaint touches meant to enhance calm and relaxation. An old wooden dresser complete with wildflower-filled vase hugged the near wall, while portraits of various floral motifs added to the rural decor. The thistle wallpaper and lace draperies framing the window completed the effect.

Lara's gaze was drawn to the two single beds.

"Um..."

The raven-haired girl seemed to sense something was off.

"Och, I hope it's not too small?" said Ivy. "I know it's a bit of a wee thing by English standards, but it's our biggest..."

"Nah, it's fine," said Elsie as she serenely moved to the left-side bed. Crouching down, she clasped her hands under the frame and slid it over until it hugged its companion.

Lara shifted nervously.

"There," said the blonde, straightening up and looking over the new sleeping arrangements with satisfaction. "That'll work."

An impish grin slowly spread across Ivy's features as she looked from the blonde to the brunette.

"Aye," said the girl, blue eyes twinkling. "That'll work fer sure."

Ivy left to fetch a basket while both women changed out of their wet clothes, Lara relieved that their travel bags had successfully kept the rain at bay.

Lara was intensely grateful to be out of her waterlogged garments. She was used to braving the elements in her travels, but this was hardly an archaeological expedition. She was on holiday, being soaked to the bone was most definitely not a job requirement.

Once Ivy had left with their drenched clothes Elsie turned to her companion, a disheartened expression crossing her pale features.

She flopped down heavily onto the joined bed and let out a despondent breath.

Lara sat down next to her friend, brushing aside a lock of damp blonde hair.

"Our little holiday hasn't exactly gotten off to a textbook start, has it? I'm sorry for that..."

"What? Oh, it's not that, I enjoyed today."

The brunette tilted her head in puzzlement. "What, then?"

The tip-tap patter of rain against the window partly muffled the blonde's sigh. "It's just...why are there so many pretty girls in the world?"

Lara frowned, glancing to the doorway and back to her friend. "You don't think yourself lacking in that respect, I hope?"

Elsie chuckled softly.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Of course not!"

The blonde closed her eyes and pressed the back of her hand to her brow.

"You know, you're the last person who should be lecturing others about self-perception. 'I'm nothing special', my ass...you who looks like you were put together in a freaking design studio..."

"This isn't about me," countered the brunette. "Bugger, Elsie...you're fetching! Why the bloody Hell would you think otherwise?"

The American was quiet, the subtle back and forth rocking of her head conveying disagreement.

"What?" queried the archaeologist.

"Just...nothing."

"Tell me."

"You'll think I'm silly."

"No, I won't...I'll likely disagree, but I certainly won't think you're being 'silly'."

The American fell silent.

"Come on," prodded Lara. "Out with it."

A sigh.

"Fine...my nose is too big," lamented the blonde.

Lara blinked.

"Don't be silly!"

"Hey! You said -"

"Elsie, you're cracked!" blurted the brunette in disbelief. "Your nose is fine! Lovely, even!"

"Look...you asked," said the blonde glumly. "So I told you. All right?"

Lara scowled at her friend. Laying down on the bed, she reached up and pulled Elsie's hand from her forehead, entwining her fingers with the American's.

"It's not just my opinion," insisted the Englishwoman. "Sam for one happens to think you're quite dishy."

Elsie slowly opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on the ceiling.

"She...she told you that?"

Lara smiled.

"She said you remind her of a young Judy Greer," explained the brunette. "I had to google her, but -"

"I know who that is," interjected the American.

"Well then..."

There followed a brief pause, the blonde's expression one of contemplation.

"Yeah, well...Judy doesn't have to cope with a stupid gap between her front teeth," contended the American.

Lara squeezed her companion's fingers.

"Which makes your smile all the more adorable," countered the brunette. "It adds to your rustic quality."

Elsie slowly craned her neck to look at her companion.

"I'm...rustic?"

"I meant in a good way," added the Englishwoman quickly.

"So...I'm unsophisticated."

"I didn't say that!"

"Simple. Unrefined."

"Stop it!"

But Lara could see the glint of amusement shining from her friend's grey eyes.

"Let's start over," continued the brunette, eager to extricate herself from the morass she'd just waddled into, "Do you remember when we first met?"

"How can I forget?" replied the blonde. "You threw up."

Lara was mortified. "That...that had nothing to do with you!"

"Uh-huh..."

The archaeologist pressed on. "My point is...I had no idea who you were, all I knew was that Trinity was out there looking for me. I shouldn't have trusted anyone, and yet...there was something about you. You had a purity of spirit...I felt it then and I still feel it now."

Elsie raised a pale eyebrow. "So...what you're saying is that I'm beautiful on the inside?"

"Ye - No! I mean - yes, but - oh, why are you making this so bloody difficult?"

The blonde grinned, shifting over to press her forehead to the brunette's. "'Cause you're adorable when you squirm."

"- the...the point I'm _trying_ to make is that you're beautiful in every facet of your being, inside _and_ outside. Pretty faces are ten a penny, but you have a loving heart behind yours which makes you infinitely more attractive - and I haven't had the best experiences with blondes."

Their eyes melted into each other.

"You outshine them all, Elsie. I haven't had much luck in life but meeting you is something for which I consider myself eternally blessed. You are a gift from the Fates."

Elsie's breathing stilled.

"I...I don't know what to say," whispered the American, her voice thick with emotion. "Lara, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me..."

Lara gazed into the same silver orbs she'd found solace in when she'd first regained consciousness in that Maine wilderness. So much had happened since then. So much had changed. Gaping holes had opened in her life.

But her love for this girl had only deepened.

Their lips brushed.

"Right, your clothes should be dr - och! Sorry!"

A scuttle of retreating footfalls sounded behind them.

Lara shot up into a sitting position as Elsie burst into laughter.

Ivy's voice drifted in from the hallway. "You two dinnae waste time, do ye?"

The archaeologist could feel her cheeks flushing. "I...sorry!"

"Just a friendly word of advice, you might want to close the door next time," continued the unseen girl from the corridor.

"I'm sorry!" repeated the brunette as her companion rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face into a pillow, the cushion muffling her laughter.

"It's no barnie to me, mind, but if we were to suddenly get busy..."

"We'll be more discreet...won't we, Elsie?"

The blonde nodded into her pillow, shoulders quivering.

"Anyway, I put your stuff up in the basement, it should be dry by morn...in the meantime feel free to wander about, if you need anything I'll be helping mum in the kitchen."

"Thank you!"

Lara flopped back onto the bed, relieved. The mattress was trembling under the blonde's mirth.

"This isn't funny!" protested the brunette, her own voice laced with laughter. "Imagine if her mother had been the one to walk in on us..."

Elsie came up for air, turning her head to face the archaeologist.

"I'll be good," giggled the American before continuing in a Cockney dialect more reminiscent of Victorian street urchins. "Ah'll be a prim and propah lai-dee...make ye right proud o'me, I will!"

Lara grabbed the second pillow and whacked her companion's grinning visage before pushing off.

~ oOo ~

Elsie's voice drifted down from the kitchen, her words intermixed with clangs of pans and cutlery. Lara hoped the proprietors weren't resenting the American's insistence on helping with supper - the blonde could be so obstinate sometimes. But the tone of conversation was perfectly amiable, she noted with relief.

Lara gazed about the small reading room. It was a rather typical affair of rural Georgian homes: a small fireplace topped by a cluttered lintel graced the far wall, a plush and well-worn chair sat next to the mullioned window. A handful of magazines were stacked on a small coffee table, while in the far corner a box overflowed with toys - no doubt for the tourists' younger charges.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

But one detail drew the brunette's curiosity: dolls were scattered throughout the room, cluttering the shelves and furniture. Lara was hardly an expert, but some looked to be quite aged, sporting distinctly Edwardian styles.

The archaeologist wandered slowly through the room, looking through the collection and wondering if it belonged to mother or daughter. But given the dolls' ages, they were more likely passed down from further back in the family.

Her eye was drawn to a particular figure perched on the fireplace lintel; it was different from the others, not a doll but a porcelain figurine of a crouched faerie, its gossamer wings looking for allI the world as though they'd been plucked straight from a damselfly.

Lara edged closer; the workmanship was exquisite - this was no souvenir picked up at some London tourist stop. The microscopic weave of the silk gown, the individual strands of dark hair, the seeming life in the violet eyes - it almost seemed _too_ good.

Lara was struck by the energy of the figurine's gaze: though unmoving and unblinking, the faerie seemed to be mirroring the brunette's curiosity.

 _It has to be the skill of the maker_ , Lara told herself. _Otherwise..._

She shook her head. _No, of course not...wake up, Lara, you're letting your imagination get the better of you..._

The Englishwoman raised her hand, her fingers hesitating just inches from the figurine as though worried a sudden move might frighten it off.

The brunette swallowed and slowly extended her index finger - and touched the faerie's arm.

Hard. Unyielding. Cool.

Porcelain, after all.

Lara pushed slightly, the figurine sliding back a half inch along the lintel with the satisfying scraping of ceramic on stone.

She dropped her arm to her side and let out a breath of relief.

 _Bugger...better keep this to yourself, Croft...Elsie would never let you hear the end of it..._

The blonde's voice drifted down from the kitchen and shook the archaeologist out of her near reverie. "Lara, come and take a look at this!"

The brunette drummed her fingers against her thigh before slowly drawing off from the fireplace. Rounding the corner to the hallway, she gave one last glance at the fireplace -

\- and stopped in her tracks.

The faerie statuette was gone.


	6. Echoes From The Past

A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 6

"You said we were the only guests you'd gotten all week," said Elsie as she poured herself a fresh cup of milk. "I take it that's not typical?"

"Of late, aye, it is, sadly," replied Lily, seated across from the blonde. "T'wasn't so long ago we'd have visitors almost daily, but Brexit's put a bit of a damper on things up here."

Ivy set a small covered casserole in the centre of the table and took a seat next to her mother. "Bloody roasters...it's our future they be sacrificing."

"Well, we're not out yet," voiced the grey-haired woman. "Anyway, there be better things to prattle about around the dinner table than politics...you mentioned your mum was from here?"

Elsie scooped a fresh helping of potatoes - _tatties_ , as Ivy called them - from her plate. "Well not right _here_ , specifically. She was born in Glasgow, her dad was a slate miner."

"Glasgow, eh?" mused the older woman. "I know folk there, what be her maiden name?"

The blonde's reply was partly muffled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Trainor."

Her answer seemed to wake the archaeologist.

"Oh, but I thought..."

Elsie shot a pointed look at the brunette.

Lara shifted slightly in her chair. "...oh...yes...yes, of course."

Ivy and Lily shared a curious glance as the archaeologist returned to idly shifting her food around her plate. While she'd politely engaged in conversation, Elsie could tell something was eating at her companion; the subtle change in the brunette's mien would've gone unnoticed by almost anyone - but Elsie knew better.

"Were ye born here, then?" resumed Ivy, filling the brief silence as she scooped a ladle of orangey mush from the casserole.

The blonde chuckled. "Ha! No, Mom came over when she was five...I'm from Portland, originally."

A look of confusion came over the archaeologist.

"What's wrong?" asked Elsie.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I distinctly remember you telling me you moved to Portland just a few years ago."

Elsie smiled. "And I did."

"But...you just said..."

"Born in Portland, Oregon, currently residing in Portland, Maine."

"...oh."

"Well there's a coincidence," remarked Lily as Lara returned to idly sliding half-eaten bangers through mashed potatoes. "Was that deliberate?"

Elsie smiled and shook her head. "Just one of life's little flukes."

Under the table, the blonde affectionately nudged the brunette's leg.

 _Hey...you okay?_

"So ye've come to the land of your ancestors," remarked the proprietor. "Well, there be plenty to see and do in Bonnie Scotland, I can promise ye that."

"As long as the rains let us," commented the American, eyeing the continuing deluge through the dining room window.

"Aye, that."

Ivy dropped a scoop of the orange mush onto her mother's plate. What about your dad, is he from here too?"

Elsie's toes curled in reflex. She quickly forked a helping of potatoes into her mouth and shook her head.

"You have a lovely home," interjected the brunette, quickly redirecting the conversation. "It's Georgian, yes?"

Elsie's heart glowed. _Love you, girl..._

"That it is," replied Lily. "An Englishman built this not long after Culloden, but it's only been into our family since the Great War."

Lara proceeded to question the green-eyed woman at length about the house, to the point that Elsie couldn't help but wonder what the brunette was getting at - the Englishwoman seemed determined to uncover every stone of the building's history. As far as the American could tell, there was nothing about the place that would remotely interest an archaeologist of Lara's ilk. Lily, for her part, seemed only too happy to oblige, recounting numerous stories of the home's previous inhabitants.

But Lara's quasi-interrogation _had_ deviated the discussion from its uncomfortable path. And so Elsie was only too happy to let the brunette dominate the conversation. Which was a rare enough sight in itself.

It was late that night when Elsie decided to broach the subject.

"Will you look at that," exclaimed the blonde as she threw open the bedroom's shutters, the waxing Moon shining prominently over the horizon. "Hardly a cloud in the sky, now..."

"Bodes well for tomorrow," echoed Lara softly from the bed's confines.

Elsie's lips slowly stretched into an upward crescent.

The blonde turned and gazed upon the brunette's moonlit form splayed across the bed. Bending her knees, she launched herself from the window, arcing through the air towards her target.

The Englishwoman's eyes widened in alarm.

"Elsie!"

The archaeologist flinched and raised an arm protectively, only for the American to land perfectly parallel to the Englishwoman, her head coming to rest against the brunette's shoulder. The old training, at least, still had its uses.

"You nutter!" admonished Lara. "Imagine if you'd broken the bed!"

"Nah," cooed the blonde as she cuddled up to her companion. "You're the one who breaks things, remember?"

"If that's a reference to your toaster," countered the brunette as she drew up the bedsheets, "Its time had long since come. I'm sure it served the pharaohs well."

Elsie patted the brunette's midsection teasingly. "Hey, it was working just fine until you went and stuffed Breadzilla in it."

"That's what you get for buying unsliced bread," explained the archaeologist. "And anyway, you absolved me of responsibility when you refused my offer to replace it."

The blonde slipped between the Englishwoman's. "Oh, is that how it works?"

"That's right," returned Lara. "Article 19 of the Good Houseguests Act."

"I'll have to look that up."

"You do that."

Elsie sighed in contentment, the two laying in silence for a time and basking in each other's closeness. The blonde modulated her breathing until she matched the slow rise and fall of her hand on Lara's abdomen.

"By the way, thanks for bailing me out at supper," said the American softly.

"I know it wasn't a subject you cared to broach," whispered the Englishwoman.

"No," agreed the blonde. "I'm curious, though...why are you so interested in this place?"

Lara's stared at the ceiling as she lazily ran her fingers through the blonde's flaxen mane. "No reason."

"Oh really...I dunno, you were grilling Lily pretty hard...everything okay?"

The brunette smiled dreamily.

"We're together," she whispered. "How can it not be?"

Elsie abandoned Lara's midsection and gently pressed a finger to the brunette's plush lower lip. Slowly tracing down the flawless curve of the brunette's chin, she continued down to the slender column of the archaeologist's throat.

"You know, if I didn't know any better I'd call that a cop-out," countered the blonde. "C'mon, what's wrong, Boo?"

"I'm fine," insisted her companion, her voice laced the subtle inflection that betrayed her every attempt at fibbing - at least to the blonde.

Elsie's middle finger lingered in the hollow at the base of Lara's throat, the digit rising slightly as her companion swallowed.

"Lara, I know you...I can tell when something's not right. Out with it."

The brunette was silent, her own fingers continuing their slow dance through the blonde's hair.

Elsie snuggled closer, her nose brushing the archaeologist's cheek. "Come on, girl...you know what they say, a problem halved is a problem solved..."

The corners of the brunette's mouth twitched. "Actually, I think it's 'a problem shared is a problem halved'."

"Oops, guess I was channeling my inner Dubya. Fine then, since you're giving me no other choice..."

The blonde raised her hand and splayed her fingertips across the brunette's face.

"My mind to your mind..."

Lara arched an eyebrow.

"My thoughts to your thoughts," breathed the American hoarsely.

"I should perhaps warn you," said the brunette, "Accessing my memories is likely to cause permanent blindness."

Elsie jerked her hand back.

"Dammit!"

"Nice try, though."

"Come onnnn," lamented the blonde. "Tell me what's bothering you, girl..."

"It's nothing. Really."

"Which means it's _something_ ," countered the American, dropping her hand to the archaeologist's chest.

Lara's lips parted slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. For a fleeting moment, the American thought she might finally get an answer -

"I just think...maybe my mind is playing tricks on me," whispered the archaeologist.

"Tricks? Like what?"

"Let's just leave it at that. Please."

Elsie's pale eyebrows rose in sudden comprehension.

"Oh my God...you saw a ghost. That's it, isn't it? You saw a g-"

Lara rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't see a ghost."

"That's why you were grilling Lily so hard," continued the blonde excitedly. "That explains why you wanted to know the history of this place -"

"I didn't see a ruddy ghost!" insisted the Englishwoman. "All right? There are no ghosts! Can we drop this, please?"

"If I guess it, will you tell me?"

"There's nothing to guess!"

"Is it me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not!"

"Okay, so...you forgot to pack spare underwear."

"Oh, for - is nothing sacred?"

"Oh wait, I know! You wanted to -"

"Elsie, let it go!"

The blonde let out a frustrated huff.

"Fine. Tell you what, I'll make you a deal."

Lara's breathing stilled.

"What sort of deal?"

"I'll drop it," offered the American, "If you tell me how things went down between you and Doppie."

"Me and...oh no..."

The brunette stiffened visibly.

"Oh, come on!"

"That's...not a topic open to discussion," rasped the archaeologist.

"What the Hell, it's like pulling teeth with you today," returned Elsie plaintively. "After everything we've been through, we're going to start keeping secrets from one another?"

Lara let out an incredulous gasp.

"Of course not. It's hardly a secret that she and I...well..."

The Englishwoman hesitated.

Elsie shifted closer. "Yes?"

"...you know."

"No," replied the blonde, struggling to bury a grin. "I don't."

"Of course you do," protested the Englishwoman. "As I recall you and Sam concocted the entire affair, so don't play the innocent with me. It was a plot."

Elsie chuckled. "Look, for all we know you two could've been playing scrabble or watching tv all night. How'd you buy Doppie's silence, by the way? Did you blackmail her or something?"

Lara sighed at the ceiling. "Don't be ridiculous. I knew you'd try and squeeze her for information."

"So how'd you manage it?"

The Englishwoman squirmed beneath the bedsheets.

"That's...between Doppie and me."

"Well I gathered _that_ ," said the blonde. "Come on, tell me what it was like..."

"Elsie -"

The blonde pawed the base of the archaeologist's throat. "Please?"

Lara let out a pained groan. "Oh, bloody Hell..."

"I'm not asking for every little detail -"

The brunette twisted to face her.

"It was bloody bizarre, all right? Happy now?"

Elsie blinked.

"How so?"

Lara flopped back on her pillow and shook her head.

"Ugh...I've said too much."

"No, come on," voiced the blonde encouragingly. "You've come this far..."

The brunette seemed to struggle with herself.

"How would _you_ feel if you were shagging yourself?"

"You mean aside from mast-"

"Yes!" barked the brunette. "Of course aside from that!"

Elsie choked down a guffaw.

"Okay, I guess I can see how it might be, um, different," admitted the blonde. "But it kinda affords a unique opportunity too, right?"

The brunette slowly craned her head to look at the blonde.

"Explain."

Elsie traced a finger along Lara's collarbone. "Well, think about it, you got to experience it from the other side. You saw what you have to offer. How many people can lay claim to that?"

The Englishwoman's expression was indecipherable.

"I..."

The blonde allowed herself an impish half-smile. "So...were you good?"

"Oh, you - get stuffed!"

Lara rolled over onto her side, facing away from her companion.

"Aww, I'm sorry," cooed Elsie as she spooned the brunette, nuzzling the archaeologist's nape. "I only razz ya 'cause I love ya, girl. C'mon, don't be a prude."

Lara huffed.

"That's rich, I'm not the one who can't - "

The brunette had caught herself - but a fraction of a second too late.

Elsie froze. Her heart caught in her throat, the unexpected jab striking hard.

"Touché," croaked the blonde.

Lara rolled over to face her friend, mortification etched on her features.

"Elsie, I'm so sorry," rasped the brunette. "I wasn't thinking...that was despicable."

The American struggled to keep the trembling of her lower lip from mushrooming into something greater.

"It's true, though..."

"No," returned Lara. "It's not."

"You know it is," Insisted Elsie. "I still can't get him out of my head...even after all these years...I've tried so fucking hard, Lara..."

The archaeologist took the blonde's hands in hers.

"I told you we'd work on that...and we will."

The corners of the blonde's mouth twitched. She looked to the brunette hopefully.

"Really?"

Lara edged closer and squeezed her companion's hands.

"We'll exorcize him, Elsie...before this holiday is over we'll banish the bastard. For good."

Elsie snuggled up to the Englishwoman and sighed.

"As an archaeologist I take it you've come across some rituals that would help with that?"

Lara smiled and kissed the blonde's brow.

"There's a particularly ancient one that comes to mind..."

~oOo~

She was falling.

No...there was no telltale wind-driven ripple of clothing.

She was floating. Surrounded on all sides by a strange mist.

But it was the eerie silence that struck Lara. Pin drop silence.

More unnerving: she felt as though she were being watched. But there were no growling eyes in the fog.

Images fluttered through the brunette's mind, almost as if she were flipping through a catalogue. Some she recognized: crawling through rough-hewn passageways under the Manor. Laughing with Roth at a café. Snuggling up with Sam under the blankets in front of the tele.

She saw Grim fall from the platform, two Solarii in tow.

Lara shuddered.

Other images she couldn't recognize. Whether due to their fleetness or vagueness of memory she couldn't determine.

The grey mist darkened to blackness.

Her senses slowly returned as the world coalesced around her. She was sitting on carpet, her back against a wall. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

Her breathing was shallow. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness Lara could just make out the looming shape of a bed immediately to her left.

But it wasn't her bedroom. At least not one she remembered; it certainly wasn't her flat, nor dormitory. Nor any of the Manor's.

So where was she...?

She was ensconced in the narrow trench formed between the bed and the wall, the tight space barely wide enough to accommodate her.

Her body was trembling. But not from cold.

She was terrified. Exhausted.

She felt as though she hadn't slept in days. Yet her eyes were unblinking.

She was in danger.

From what, Lara had no idea. But every sense in her body was heightened akin to a fawn hiding in tall grasses while a predator lurked.

She wanted desperately to bolt. But try as she might, the brunette couldn't move. Not even the slightest twitch of a finger.

She was completely paralyzed.

Lara had felt fear before - but nothing like this. It was beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Absolute, overpowering terror, made worse by an underlining hopelessness.

She knew she couldn't escape.

A squeak in the floorboards. The sensation of terror spiked, threatening to overwhelm the brunette as she clutched her knees even more closely to her chest.

Her breathing became ragged.

It was then she noticed it.

The long, disheveled hair cascading down the front of her shoulders was pale.

 _Dear God...no..._

She wanted to scream.

The all too familiar creak of the doorknob.

 _No...no, no, no...this isn't happening..._

A faint sliver of light cracked through the door.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart racing.

 _It isn't real...it's just a dream...I'm not really here..._

The floorboards flexed ominously.

Her mind began to swirl. Within, she screamed herself hoarse.

 _NO!_

Her body began tingling; an odd lightness overtook her.

Muffled sounds reached her ears.

Wind. The rustling of leaves.

She opened her eyes.

And found herself walking outside.

She was still breathing heavily as she struggled to overcome her disorientation; the blackness made it virtually impossible to get her bearings - had she somehow escaped?

The only visible light was a faint orange-red glow in the distance behind her, filtered through the trees.

 _A fire...?_

Her brief relief at having escaped the terror of the bedroom was tempered by the realization she was walking along a paved roadway - and she was straddling the centre line. If a car should happen by in this darkness -

Alarmingly, she found she could not alter her course; she continued to walk steadily on, her feet moving with a slow, strange disconnect - almost as though they were on autopilot. She had an odd, almost limping gait: her left foot was shoeless, the bare sock offering no insulation from the cold asphalt.

Adding to her confusion was a strange numbness through which seeped a muted jumble of emotions, the strongest of which was almost crippling guilt.

But what had she done...?

But more pressing was the sudden appearance of headlights ahead.

 _Get off the road!_

But she trudged on.

The lights rounded a curve. Still she continued her inexorable march.

Disturbingly, part of her seemed to almost welcome the pending calamity.

 _Bloody Hell...move!  
_

The car was coming at a frightening speed. The lights shone in her eyes.

There was a loud screech of rubber against asphalt as the car swerved to one side at the last possible moment, its mirror brushing her elbow.

Still she continued on.

She heard the mechanical clunk from behind her as the car shifted into reverse. The flashing blue and red lights on the car's roof bathed the surrounding trees in an oddly beautiful kaleidoscope.

She finally came to a stop as the car squealed to a halt next to her. The brunette gazed at her reflection in the driver's window.

 _Elsie..._

The door cracked open, from which emerged an astonished young policeman brandishing a flashlight.

"Miss? Are you all right?"

Elsie's voice was shockingly lifeless.

"She's gone."

The policeman lunged for her.

But she'd already collapsed.

The grey mist descended once more, plunging Lara into another confusing flurry of images. When the fog lifted, she found herself crouched down before a small campfire, stoking the embryonic flames with twigs and broken branches. On a smooth boulder jutting out of the ground next to her lay a small pan containing several fish filets.

"Come on out, sleepyhead," said the brunette in Elsie's distinctively airy voice. "Hope you like pickerel?"

A rustle of canvas behind her.

She turned around on her shins - and came face to face with herself crouched just outside a small tent, wan and pale and looking much the worse for wear.

Lara gasped inwardly.

 _I barely remember this...I think I was still concussed..._

But the warmth in her heart - Elsie's heart - felt real enough.

The image quickly blurred into murkiness, the ensuing words muffled into obscurity.

She was running.

But it was no early morning jog; it was a sprint of desperation through dimly lit streets.

Her legs were straining for even more speed, the filthy brick walls on either side constraining her course to a straight line. Her left hand and wrist throbbed painfully.

Rapid, heavy footfalls echoed behind her. Getting closer..?

No. She was gaining - but only just.

 _Go!_

In the darkness, she never saw it.

Plowing full-on into an unseen barrier, the telltale rattle of chainlink brusquely announced an impediment to her flight; the metal mesh sprung back, hurtling her onto her backside.

She was back on her feet in seconds. Ignoring the pain, she began to clamber frantically up the chainlink barricade. She'd nearly reached the top when a vice-like grip clamped onto her leg.

And pulled.

She crashed to the ground, her wrist screaming in agony. But the grip on her leg had momentarily loosened.

One last chance.

Scrambling through the darkness, she took a desperate, roundhouse swing at the shadowy form of her assailant.

And missed.

She was thrown against a wall, the back of her skull impacting with such force that her legs instantly turned to rubber. Only the hands roughly clamped on either side of her head kept her from crumbling to the ground.

A leering face Lara couldn't recognize loomed into view.

"I'll make damned sure I get my money's worth out of you..."

 _No!_

Her head violently collided once more against brick.

Darkness enveloped her.

For several moments all was quiet, until faint murmurs began to seep from the shadows.

She couldn't make out what was being said at first - the voices sounded as though they speaking through pillows. But as the conversation droned on the words slowly became increasingly distinct.

Elsie's voice, pleading.

"She didn't know! You can't do this!"

Another voice, older, feminine - and strangely disembodied.

"Knowing or not," said the woman, "is of no consequence."

Elsie's voice took on a level of desperation that unnerved the brunette.

"She meant no harm! _Please!_ I beg you!"

"Go," interjected the unknown woman. "And be thankful you do not share her fate."

There followed a long silence. When Elsie spoke again there her voice was both strained yet resolute.

"I'm not leaving without her."

Lara's eyes snapped open.

The brunette shot up into a sitting position, her senses straining for a perch in her latest reality.

Lace curtains ruffled slightly to her right as the open shutters channeled warm night air into the room. The wallpaper's flowery motif confirmed she was still in the B&B.

All was peaceful.

She let out a breath of relief, sweeping the back of her hand across her damp brow. To her left, Elsie was curled up into a ball and sleeping soundly, a dreamy smile etched across her features; the young woman's pale skin seemed to almost glow in the moonlight.

The brunette's breathing slowly ebbed from its accelerated rhythm.

 _Okay...what the bloody Hell just happened...?_

Lara pushed herself back against the headboard and shuddered, trying to wrap her head around what she'd just experienced.

She knew it had been no dream; every sound, every smell - they'd been all too vivid, all too real. She'd _lived_ the moments in time.

Yet, paradoxically, she knew she hadn't.

They'd been memories, not dreams. Only not her own.

It made no sense.

How could she have tapped into the blonde's past? Elsie was no psychic, that she knew. Astral projection was out.

The American shifted slightly and licked her lips before settling back into quiet slumber.

The brunette gently traced a finger along the smooth curve of the blonde's cheek.

"How did you turn out so well," whispered the Englishwoman.

Elsie slowly uncurled herself and stretched her limbs, cat-like, her grey eyes glittering through half-open eyelids.

"Hey," murmured the blonde as she smiled at the brunette. "T'swrong...can't sleep?"

Lara bit her lip. "Sorry...I hadn't meant to wake you..."

"C'mon," breathed the American as she pulled the Englishwoman into her. "Lemme make it all better..."

Lara pressed her lips to Elsie's neck as she was wrapped in a loving cocoon.

"You're safe," whispered the blonde. "They can't touch you here..."

"Elsie -"

"Mmm?"

Lara sighed and gave herself to her companion.

It could wait until morning – or, maybe forever.

Perhaps some mysteries were better left unexplored.

"Thank you."

Smothered as she was by the blonde's embrace she hadn't detected a faint flutter leave through the open window.


	7. A New Day

A NUMBER'S GAME, Chapter 7

All told, it had been a day worthy of postcards.

The rains of the day before had been replaced by unblemished azure skies overlooking pleasantly warm air and dry ground. The incessant splatter of raindrops against mud had given way to the chirping of birds.

But of even more import - to Lara, at least - there'd been no hint of odd events since they'd left the B&B that morning. The brunette allowed herself a flitter of optimism: maybe, just maybe, nothing would come of them.

They'd inaugurated the excursion with a random exploration of the countryside, Elsie's wanderlust leading them through meadows, pastureland and prickly hedgerows, across myriad dry stone walls and glittering streams until they finally came upon a village in the full throws of a harvest festival.

Lara didn't think she'd ever seen Elsie so excited: the blonde had thrown herself headlong into the festivities, enthusiastically running between the myriad performers, kiosks and exhibitions with such verve that Lara finally gave up trying to keep pace, opting to observe a comparatively serene demonstration on basket weaving while her friend tired herself out.

"I'm curious, how long does the fair run for?" asked Lara of the middle-aged woman weaving willow branches into a circular lattice.

"Two days," replied the woman as she deftly twisted the flexible stems with well-practiced movements. "You would've seen more yesterday, it being Lammas and all."

Lara's pulled her gaze away from the embryonic basket and looked at the woman. "But...today is Lammas."

The woman shook her head. "Lammas is observed on the first of August."

"Precisely, yes."

The basket weaver smiled. "Today's the second, dear."

"But...hang on, that can't be right..."

Lara fished her phone from her pocket.

She thumbed the display and frowned.

 _August 2...what?_

She knew it was the first of August...or at least, she _thought_ she knew.

When the blonde finally rejoined her a large picnic basket swung from her elbow - though the Englishwoman barely noticed.

"Elsie, what day is this?"

The American tipped her head quizzically. "Tuesday, why?"

"No, I mean the date."

"August second...why, did you forget something?"

Lara shook her head at the blonde's confirmation. Could she have lost track of time to such an extent?

"This makes no sense," continued the Englishwoman. "We landed at Heathrow on the twenty-ninth -"

"Thirtieth," interjected the blonde.

"Twenty-ninth," insisted the Englishwoman. "Elsie, I was right there when you booked our flight, I know!"

The American reached into her back pocket.

"No, don't look at -"

Elsie thrust her phone out, the display facing the brunette.

Lara huffed. "Look, I know that's what our _phones_ say -"

The blonde tugged on a passerby, a lanky redhead carrying a large chicken against his chest - Lara noticed the bird seemed to be ogling her with trepidation.

 _You toss a few chickens and you're labelled for life..._

"Excuse me, what day is this?" asked Elsie.

The man paused in bemusement.

"Tues-"

"No, the date."

"Och, the second," said the man.

"So yesterday was the first. Lammas, right?"

"Aye. Or Lunasadgh as some folk call it."

"Thank you," said the blonde, throwing a look of triumph to her companion as man and chicken moved off. "Satisfied?"

"But...but..."

Elsie edged up to the flustered brunette.

"Look, it's no big deal," said the blonde as she brushed chestnut locks from her friend's eyes. "If it's any consolation, I kinda wish you were right...that way we'd have an extra day together."

Lara grumbled, her date quandary proving stubbornly resistant to a satisfying resolution. But at the moment her frustration was being dulled by the lovely grey eyes hovering only inches from hers.

She sighed.

"Oh...fine, then..."

"Come on," said the blonde encouragingly as she snaked her free arm around the Englishwoman's. "I picked us up a few things."

Lara glanced at the basket. "Oh? Such as?"

"You'll see," replied Elsie as she slowly led Lara away from the festival. "I couldn't find wine, mind you, but I did manage to get some mead..."

The brunette smiled. "Am I to take it we're going on picnic?"

"That's right," breathed the blonde as they headed off for a distant hillock. "I think we've earned one, don't you?"

~ oOo ~

Elsie had chosen an idyllic spot: an isolated hillock untouched by browsing sheep, overgrown with wildflowers with a central gnarled oak providing a measure of shade - not that it was desperately needed, what with the sun slowly inching down towards the distant hills, but the overhanging branches and leafy canopy did lend a comforting intimacy to the setting.

The blonde had seen to everything, spreading out a large tartan blanket before setting out a veritable trove of foodstuffs she'd collected in the village: pickle onions, scotch eggs, shortbread, potato salad, croquettes, buttered scones, croustades, jam, oatcakes, fudge, several varieties of local cheeses and of course the aforementioned mead complete with hand crafted wooden goblets. To Lara it seemed they had enough to withstand a siege.

"I don't understand how you can be so dead set against your own cryptid," voiced the blonde. "Where's your national pride?"

"For one, I'm English, not Scottish," countered Lara as she sliced a wedge of Dunlop cheese. "It's why we field separate football teams in the World Cup."

"Foot - oh, you mean soccer."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "'Soccer', yes, of course. My mistake."

Elsie grinned as she took a healthy bite of freshly-baked shortbread.

The archaeologist continued. "Anyway...being English, I've no predisposed loyalty to Nessie, if that's your thinking."

Elsie shook her head at her companion in mock disappointment. "I would've thought you of all people would have an open mind about stuff like that, what with Sun Queens, self-propelled boulders and undead, and God knows what else you've seen."

"I just think the notion of some prehistoric beast lurking under our collective noses all these years is rubbish," explained the Englishwoman. "In case you haven't noticed, this isn't exactly a remote corner of Patagonia. Having an open mind doesn't invalidate a healthy skepticism."

"And yet you believe in Sasquatch," retorted the American in between mouthfuls. "Explain that."

Lara frowned.

"That's _not_ what I said."

"You said -"

"I said the evidence is compelling," stated the archaeologist, leaning forward to stuff a slice of Dunlop into her companion's mouth. "Which is entirely different from stating one's unequivocal belief. You're misquoting me terribly, Miss Trainor."

The blonde chewed the soft cheese before muffling out a response with a dismissive wave.

"Semantics."

Lara huffed.

"Explain to me again why I like you?"

Elsie flashed a grin.

"Must be the pancakes."

"It has to be that," agreed the brunette.

Lara sighed, her shoulder blades resting lightly against the oaken trunk as Elsie proceeded to refill the goblets.

The Englishwoman's thoughts drifted back to the memories she'd inexplicably witnessed the previous night. She'd been sorely tempted to divulge all to her companion; as outlandish as it seemed, there'd be no question of Elsie disbelieving her. Indeed, the blonde might well provide a sounding board from which the archaeologist might make some sense of what happened.

But it would also mean re-opening her friend's old wounds. Wounds Lara knew had to this day never fully healed.

She shuddered at the lingering memories.

She would have to tread carefully.

She carefully plucked a large yellow and violet wildflower from the tall grass next to her hip.

"What's this called?"

"A flower," replied Elsie before sipping some mead.

"You imp," smirked the Englishwoman. "I meant the species. You're the green thumb."

"Yeah, well, it's more of a hobby than an obsession. I can't be expected to know everything!"

As the blonde set her goblet down and grabbed a scone, Lara dipped a toe into the murky waters.

"Elsie," began the archaeologist tentatively, "Did you...sleep well last night?"

The blonde heaped a spoonful of jam atop her pastry. "Like a baby, actually...why, was I kicking?"

"No, that's not what...no."

The blonde eyed the Englishwoman curiously as she dropped the spoon into the jar with a clank.

"Why are you asking?"

 _Shit...I shouldn't be opening this door...back out, Lara..._

The brunette quickly re-directed the conversation.

"I just couldn't help but notice...you didn't bring your nightlight with you."

Elsie smiled sheepishly. "Oh, yeah...I've been trying to wean myself off it."

Lara cocked her head. "You seem to be managing it well enough."

"It's still a work in progress, believe me," clarified the American as her outstretched foot began rocking back and forth. "But having Doppie around helps."

The Englishwoman set out a snare. "Yes, I imagine her sleeping overhead _would_ provide a measure of reassurance."

"Well, she's not exactly...um..."

The blonde's shoulders sagged slightly. To Lara it seemed as though her friend's pale cheeks were flushing.

"Elsie?"

The blonde chewed her lip as her eyes locked onto the tartan blanket.

"I, uh...we've been...sleeping in the same bed. For a while now."

"Yes, I gathered. I saw it at your flat."

"No, I mean...in the same _bunk_..."

The brunette took care to maintain a neutral tone. "I see."

Elsie's head popped up, grey eyes wide.

"But it's not like we're sleeping together," added the blonde hastily. "I mean...not _that_ way."

Lara held a palm outward.

"I never said it was."

"But you're thinking it!"

The brunette was finding it difficult to stifle a smile.

"I'm doing no such thing," countered the archaeologist. "Bugger, but you're tense!"

Elsie's foot accelerated its nervous rocking. "Okay, for the record, she grabbed _me!_ Oh, shit...I mean -"

"Elsie, I know."

The blonde frowned. "You know...what?"

"I know all about your sleeping arrangements," explained the Englishwoman. "Doppie told me. It started from a power cut."

"She...she did?"

Lara nodded. "You needed comforting. She understood."

"Yes!" exclaimed Elsie, visibly relieved. "That's it exactly!"

The brunette smiled. "She knows what I know, remember."

The blonde nodded knowingly. "I, ah, noticed."

Lara sampled the mead, the sweet nectar sliding pleasantly down her throat.

"I've been meaning to ask...how's life been with her so far? It's been what, nine months now?"

Elsie's gaze dropped to her scone as she seemed to struggle with the question.

"Honestly, it's been...up and down," admitted the blonde softly. "I mean, I have to do a lot of damage control, but..."

Lara arched an eyebrow. "Damage control?"

The American shook her head. "It's nothing I can't handle. And she is getting better at controlling herself as time goes on. She hasn't throttled anyone in almost a month."

"Well that's...good."

The blonde's foot stopped its rocking. "It's strange, you know...when I left Oregon, I knew I would live on my own. I like the independence."

"I've gathered," remarked the archaeologist.

Elsie sighed as her gaze turned to a distant flock of rooks crossing over the distant hills.

"And yet...now I can't imagine my life without her. Yeah, she can be a handful, but there are times when she can be so freaking sweet, Lara, loath as she is to express it. I'd miss her so much if she left..."

The brunette idly twirled the flower between thumb and forefinger.

"Well, for what it's worth, I don't think she plans on leaving...at least not anytime soon."

"I know, but -"

The blonde's voice cut off. She glanced at her companion.

"Hang on...when did you guys have this conversation, anyway?"

Lara shifted slightly. "Right after...you know..."

The blonde's grey eyes popped. "Aha! Now we're getting somewhere!"

"No, you're not," parried the brunette. "It's just that after our...activities...there followed a rather awkward silence. And so, we got to talking. It was our first proper conversation, actually."

Elsie slowly shook her head. "Worst. Censor. Ever. 'Activities'? Really?"

Lara let out a sharp breath. "Well, what would you rather I call it?!"

"Oh I dunno, how about something a little more descriptive?" replied the blonde. "Like mattress dancing, or slappin' bellies, or the ol' bump 'n grind, or - "

"Okay, you've made your point," winced the brunette.

" - stuffing the turkey, or -"

"Oh, God..."

" - kicking the can - "

"All right!"

Lara could feel the deep pink seeping into her cheeks.

Elsie shifted onto her knees and shuffled over to the brunette.

"Awww, don't be embarrassed..."

"You'll never let me live that down, will you?" rasped the archaeologist.

"It's all in fun," cooed the blonde affectionately. "You know that."

"Oh, is that what it is..."

Elsie nuzzled her companion's cheek.

"You know, I absolutely love how the indomitable Lara Croft can crawl through corpse-infested tombs without batting an eye and yet gets hopelessly flummoxed by a few colourful metaphors."

"I'd rank them as slightly more than 'colourful'," returned the Englishwoman hoarsely. "Can you at least drop the 'can' references? Please?"

Elsie smiled. "Done."

"Thank you."

Taking in a brief whiff of the flower in her hand, Lara reached out and gently tucked the stem behind the blonde's ear.

Her mouth opened slightly.

 _Bugger, but you're lovely..._

The blonde arched an eyebrow.

"Is that how one proposes in Scotland?"

Lara jerked her hand back and sputtered: "What? No! I mean - I didn't -"

Elsie laughed. "Lara, relax. I'm not the marrying type."

The Englishwoman let out a breath of relief. "Neither am I."

Elsie blinked. "What, not even Sam?"

Lara's stomach churned slightly. "Uh...we've never really discussed it. But then our lives have been rather complicated these last few years."

"Hm. Speaking about discussions," said the blonde as she considered the brunette, "what did you talk about that night? You and Doppie, I mean."

Lara shifted slightly, her back pressing snugly against the oaken trunk.

"Just...things," replied the archaeologist, her memories of that unusual night forever seared into her brain. "We'd never really conversed, at least not to any significant degree. But that night she was...different."

Elsie pressed her hips to her companion's. "In a good way, I hope?"

"Yes," smiled Lara. "That night she almost seemed...human."

The blonde chuckled.

"Almost?"

Lara's stomach knotted. The doppelgänger had changed, there was no denying it.

She'd freed the creature from mindless obeisance, yes - but hadn't she used the redhead for her own purposes? What choice had she really given her, after all?

She was no longer a tool. Hers or anyone else's.

"Elsie...I have a confession to make," said the brunette softly.

Pale eyebrows raised in expectation.

"Please don't tell me you're a fan of Barry Manilow," ventured the blonde.

"I - what?" jabbered the archaeologist. "No...no, where'd you even get - never mind. What I meant -"

Elsie's eyebrows disappeared under her disheveled fringe. "Oh my God...you voted for Brexit! That's it, isn't it?"

"Of course not! Bloody Hell, I wasn't even in the country at the time!"

"Well stop beating around the bush and tell me!"

"I'm _trying_ but someone keeps interrupting!"

"Okay!"

As Lara let out a huff of frustration as the blonde's arm snaked affectionately around her waist.

The American had a distinct knack for pushing her buttons; and truth be told - though she never admitted it - the archaeologist furtively enjoyed having her buttons pushed.

But she now had to broach a serious topic: how would Elsie react to the truth?

The brunette drew in a sombre breath.

"My motives for sending Doppie to you weren't entirely...altruistic."

"Oh, that," said the American with surprising nonchalance. "Look, I can understand you not wanting her around, if people were to mistake her for you - "

"It's more than that," interrupted the archaeologist.

The blonde grew still, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features.

"I didn't ask you to take her in for her benefit," continued the brunette cautiously. "I did it because of the protection she would provide, if Trinity were to ever -"

"Oh please," breathed the blonde, waving a dismissive hand. "For a second there you actually had me worried...that's not exactly news, Lara."

Lara blinked. "You...knew?"

"Well, more like suspected," said the American, squeezing the Englishwoman's waist. "And I also know that's a half-truth. You do care about her, Lara, whether you admit it to yourself or not. You _want_ her to have a real shot at life. Maybe the protection angle was own personal self-delusion for sending her, but it wasn't your only reason."

The archaeologist rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously. "You're giving me too much credit, I think."

"Nope," smiled the blonde. "You know, in a way she's probably the closest thing to a sister you'll ever have."

Lara shuddered and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sisters...don't shag each other."

"Maybe not," returned the blonde. "But you two share more than just memories. There's a subtle bond there, even if neither of you are exactly sure how to deal with it. I think it's kinda sweet, really."

Lara swallowed. "I...I don't know if I'd call it that..."

Elsie leaned in and whispered into her companion's ear. "She's loyal to you, you know."

"Is she...?"

The American nodded. "Wouldn't spill the beans about New Zealand no matter what I tried. Hell, even my pancake bribe didn't work, and that's _always_ her Achilles' Heel. Never said a single word, would just stand there staring at me when I asked...frustrating as all get out, really."

The Englishwoman took a deep breath.

 _Oh, bloody Hell..._

"Fine. If it's that important to you...it was...strangely nice."

Elsie gaped at her companion. "Whoa...details, girl!"

Having opened the door the tiniest sliver, Lara was determined to keep her foot firmly planted against its base.

"And that's all I will ever say on the matter."

"Dammit!"

The blonde edged closer; Lara had a feeling something big was coming.

"Okay, I get that you don't want to tell me, so...how about you show me?"

Grey and brown eyes locked.

Lara hesitated; she wanted to, desperately. But the memory of her companion almost hysterical with fright had long lingered in her mind.

The blonde evidently sensed her trepidation.

"I won't freak out, I promise," voiced the American softly. "I know you won't hurt me."

Lara's mouth opened slightly. Her gaze drifted down to the ball of her companion's shoulder, laid bare by the blonde's loose-fitting top; the smooth, pale skin glistening in the golden glow shining from the horizon.

Gods, how she wanted to eat it.

The brunette's breathing had unconsciously accelerated, tiny beads of sweat forming on her brow.

The blonde leaned in until less than a finger's breadth separated their lips.

"C'mon, girl..."

"If...if you're sure...?" whispered Lara hoarsely.

Squeezing a hand between the tree and the back of her companion's head, the blonde pressed in, her tongue seeking out its opposite number. Lara sighed, giving herself to the desire coursing through her body.

Tongues writhed together in an intimate waltz, Lara leading the sensual dance deeper into her companion's mouth. She leaned in and clutched Elsie's willowy form, long pent-up desire sending her fingers clawing into the blonde's sides and back.

There was a clank and tinkle as goblets toppled onto plates, courtesy of Elsie wrapping pulling the Englishwoman away from the tree to wrap her legs around her waist. They were making a mess - not that the brunette cared.

Lara slid her lips down Elsie's chin, the blonde throwing her head back as the archaeologist began exploring the slender column of her throat, alternately kissing and suckling the alabaster skin as she went.

Elsie groaned, Lara's lips sensing the guttural reverberations as she continued down the subtle contours down to its base, pausing momentarily before shifting course to nibble the blonde's collarbone.

She munched along the delicate, gently curving bone until she reached the exposed shoulder; opening her mouth wide, she clamped down on the smooth ball - and bit.

"OW! _Fuck!_ " cried the blonde. "So much for not hurtin'!"

Lara nearly disengaged in response, but the laughter in the blonde's voice was unmistakable: she was still on the right side of the line.

The Englishwoman resumed her assault, her teeth not quite breaking the skin - but only just.

Elsie continued her mirth-laced lamentation.

"Ahh! Fucking cannibal!"

Lara unclamped her hold on the blonde's shoulder and slowly slid back to the beckoning clavicle, pressing in until she'd embedded the slender bone in her mouth. Elsie's legs tightened around her midsection in anticipation of her companion's intentions.

"Don't you da _ARGGHH!"_

The Englishwoman almost gasped at the sudden increase in constriction around her waist, which was now becoming genuinely painful.

Throwing herself to one side, Lara rolled her back onto the grass, the blonde's legs unlocking in reflex as she flailed wildly for a foothold. Lara used her momentum to continue her rotation until she came to a sitting position astride her companion's hips, the American sprawled out on the grass beneath her.

"Oof!"

Lara grinned at the American before hunching down. With one hand she pushed up the thin material of Elsie's sweater, revealing a pale, toned abdomen, the flawlessly, cream-like skin marred by a single scar in her side: the residual wound which had nearly ended her life two years before.

The archaeologist hesitated; when last she'd been in this position the result had been disastrous. Tucked away in her brain was the disturbing image of terrified grey eyes staring back at her. If she were to provoke the same reaction now -

"C'mon!"

Before Lara could react the blonde had grabbed her wrists and pulled the Englishwoman into her, the archeologist's face planting itself in the hollow just below her ribcage.

"Urf!"

Lara smiled into the softness. _Okay...apparently we're good..._

She pushed the sweater up further as she proceeded to sample the ivory flesh, kissing, caressing, suckling. Her brain was cooking from the delectable sensations - the blonde was delicious.

More passionate kisses. She suckled the supple flesh between her teeth and bit down, desire putting in slightly more pressure than she'd intended.

"Ow! Geez, would you like some fries with that...?"

The brunette responded by continuing to ravage the smooth expanse of pale skin with even greater intensity, suckling and biting and tasting as her companion writhed and groaned beneath her.

Lara slowly shifted her scouring higher, up the slope leading to the blonde's ribcage, pausing to sample each of the ribs with a loving mix of nibbles and kisses as she slowly made her way up her friend's heaving chest.

Most conveniently, there was no bra impeding her quest - but there was more than enough flesh for the brunette to sink her teeth into.

Elsie buckled and let out a yelp, even as she clawed at Lara's shoulders to prevent her from disengaging.

The Englishwoman continued to taste the supple mounds, her tongue lapping in a sweet saltiness as the pale skin developed a faint sheen.

"Okay," panted Elsie, "this is...SO much better...than solo..."

As she continued her pillaging of her companion's flesh Lara sensed the blonde's racing heart desperately trying to break out of her chest; the brunette planted her lips directly above the precious treasure, half wishing she could kiss it proper.

 _Love you so much..._

The blonde bucked. Once, twice. Lightly at first, then more forcefully, driving her knees against the brunette's midsection.

She wanted out.

 _Shit!_

It had been too much; Lara's worst fears had come to pass.

The damage _had_ been permanent.

The Englishwoman hastily rolled off and pushed herself onto her knees, expecting the worst.

"Elsie, I'm sor-"

But Elsie didn't retreat; rather, she was frantically tugging at her jeans.

"Help me," gasped the blonde, "get these off...I'm sticky..."

Almost overwhelming relief struck the brunette, followed quickly by a strongly resurgent desire.

"Oh...yes!"

Grabbing the bottom of her companion's jeans she duly tugged, the blonde kicking herself free of the constricting denim.

Lara tossed the trousers aside and scampered forward on all fours .

"Are you absolutely sure ab-"

And fell face-first into the blonde's crotch, courtesy of a scissor-motion leg lock around the back of her skull that thrust her forward without warning.

"Mmph!"

Pushing her head up slightly, the brunette hooked a finger over her friend's knickers - and tugged.

Elsie threw her head back and let out a screech of triumph.

Lara couldn't help but smile as she began delving into the moist, delicate folds.

 _You've beaten him, Elsie._

~ oOo ~

Lara lay in bed, lazily twisting her fingers through the disheveled mane pressed against her shoulder.

Try as she might, the archaeologist couldn't nod off.

She couldn't blame the events of the day. Indeed, she was immeasurably chuffed for her companion, having finally shaken herself free of her predator's spectre. After Lara had finally rolled off for the final time she'd laid there, staring at the bluish-pink skies before finally bursting into tears, the realization of the moment having finally kicked in. The monster had lost its teeth.

It had been entirely fitting that it had taken place at the setting of the sun, mused the archaeologist; she recalled that in ancient Celtic cultures, the new day was measured from the moment the sun disappeared over the horizon, not the midnight hour imposed centuries later.

And for Elsie, it was most definitely a new day. A new life.

For Lara, a different measure of time was gnawing at her.

She'd spent three days with the blonde since landing in London. Of this there was no question.

So why did the entire world seemed determined to insist that four days had passed? Even Elsie seemed to be oblivious.

 _We landed on the twenty-ninth, why does she think the thirtieth? She was right there with me, after all..._

More disturbingly, if the brunette _was_ right - and she knew she was - what had happened during the missing day?

She had to know.

Gazing out the window, one light was discernibly moving amid the background of twinkling stars.

A slow progression roughly north to south. Unerringly straight.

An airliner.

Lara chewed her lip. _Maybe..._

Moving gingerly so as not to wake her companion, the brunette extracted herself from the bed.

Elsie hadn't stirred. _Good_.

There was one way for Lara to get the proof she needed to convince the blonde she wasn't dreaming: her ticket stub.

The brunette crouched over her bag next to the wardrobe and slowly unzipped the canvas.

She rummaged through her belongings until her fingers seized upon her moleskine. Deftly twisting off the restraining elastic, she flipped the tiny notebook open to the page marker.

Nothing.

 _Bloody Hell...I know I put it here..._

She flipped through the preceding pages, unable to locate the missing stub. Shaking the notebook by the spine produced no better results.

Had it worked its way loose in the bag?

It seemed almost impossible, what with the rubber band keeping the book tightly bound. But she had to be sure.

She emptied her bag on the floor and scoured the contents. Aside from a crumpled old five pound note, there was nothing she hadn't expected.

And still no stub.

 _There's no bloody way it can't be here..._

There was only one possibility, Lara concluded. Trouble was, the implications were unsettling: someone had searched through her belongings with the implicit goal of removing it.

Even more disturbingly, there was only one suspect.

Lara fixed her gaze on her quietly slumbering companion.

 _Why, Elsie...?_

The brunette shook her head. No...no, she couldn't bring herself to suspect the blonde.

She trusted her friend with her life.

 _Maybe...maybe I'm just off_ , mused the archaeologist. _It wouldn't be the first time I'd been absolutely convinced of being right only to be proved wrong..._

There had to be some other way to get the proof she needed.

Her eyes settled on her phone amidst her scattered belongings.

 _Sam!_

Grasping the device, she made her way down the hall to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Thumbing the device, she glanced at the time and hit quick dial.

 _2:09...bugger, she's not going to like this..._

The tone pulsed half a dozen times before it picked up.

"La-"

There followed an awkward clatter - followed by Sam swearing in the background.

"Fuck!"

The brunette could hear frantic scuttling noises as the filmmaker retrieved her phone.

"Lara? Lara, are you okay?"

Sam's voice was an an awkward combination of grogginess and panic.

"I'm fine, Sam," replied the brunette soothingly. "I just...I need to ask you something."

"You need to...uh, okay?"

Lara swallowed. "What day did we land at Heathrow?"

Silence.

"Um...Sam...?"

"You called me at at two in the morning to ask me _that?_ "

"Well...I suppose when you put it that way...it _does_ seem a bit daft..."

"Just a bit!"

"Sorry," breathed the brunette. "But it really is important, Sam. I wouldn't have called you otherwise."

A sigh.

"Friday," replied the asian-American. "You landed on Friday."

"You're absolutely sure?"

"I picked you up!"

"So...the twenty-ninth, then."

A brief pause as Sam did the mental calculation. "Yeah, right."

Lara was deflated.

"Thanks, Sam."

"Aren't you going to tell me what this is about?"

"Uh..."

There was no point in worrying her friend; at least not until she had something tangible to go on, anyway.

"It was...to settle an argument," said the brunette, being mindful not to lie. "I was sure we'd landed on the twenty-ninth, but Elsie insisted it was the thirtieth."

A pregnant pause.

"You're kidding."

"I, ah...no."

"You two are nuts, you know that?" exclaimed the Asian-American. "Arguing at this time of night. Fine, put her on, I'll confirm the twenty-ninth if she doesn't believe you."

"Well...she's asleep, you see..."

"Oh, great," grumbled Sam. "Well, I'm glad to see _someone's_ getting some shuteye..."

"I'm sorry, Sam," pleaded the Englishwoman. "I'll make it up to you."

"Hmph."

"No, really."

"Well..."

Lara could detect the subtle shift in her friend's demeanour - and she had a fair idea what was coming.

"Greece?"

Lara smiled. "It's a date."

"Okay," said the filmmaker, placated. "So, since I've got you on the phone...how's everything going? Aside from the stupid date thing, I mean?"

"Swimmingly," replied the archaeologist. "We went to a local fair today...she's loving it up here."

"Well, good," yawned Sam. "Now can I get back to bed, please?"

"Oh, just one more thing," interjected Lara hurriedly. "Did Kaz make any progress on the Mansucript?"

"You promised you wouldn't think about work, Lara."

"I haven't", assured the brunette. "Really. It's just...since we're talking..."

The filmmaker went silent.

"Sam?"

A sigh. "No, she didn't. She managed to track down one more page on the Web but it's almost entirely illustrations...hardly anything worth translating."

The brunette scuffed her foot along the linoleum. "Damn."

"Now stop thinking about that!"

The Englishwoman chuckled softly. "I will. Thanks, Sam."

"Okay...love you, sweetie."

"I love you too, Sam."

Lara flicked off the device and opened the door.

Back in the bedroom, she dropped her phone in her bag and turned to the peacefully slumbering form sprawled across the bed.

She loved the blonde. Beyond measure, really. But a nagging suspicion was now nagging at the brunette.

It was not a pleasant sensation. She trusted the girl implicitly. _Had_ trusted her.

 _What are you playing at, Elsie?_


	8. A Second Chance Squandered

A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 8

The motorcycle had barely come to a halt when Lara hit the kickstand.

In the distance a familiar hill jutted from the surrounding countryside. Trees obscured most of its surface, its eastern flank characterized by a near-vertical escarpment gouged by an ancient landslide.

They'd driven past earlier that morning, but Lara's vague familiarity with the area seemed to stem from further back in her memory. But like outstretched fingers trying to grasp something just beyond their reach, the details of her previous visit were proving to be frustratingly elusive.

Lara wondered if she'd been here at some point in her childhood; she'd travelled to Scotland on several occasions, so it was at least _possible_.

And yet...

The Englishwoman was frustrated: she could normally recall even the faintest minutia with near-perfect clarity. She considered it her one true gift.

But not this time.

Lara removed her helmet and shook her ponytail loose as she waited for her companion to slide off - but the blonde's arms remained resolutely clamped around her waist.

"I can't get off until you let go," voiced the brunette.

The American didn't move. "Why are we stopping?"

"I'll tell you, once you get off."

With inexplicable reluctance, Elsie finally released her grip on the archaeologist and disembarked.

"Okay," said the blonde after removing her helmet. "Spill it. Why'd we stop? We can't be outta gas, can we?"

As Lara swung her leg clear of the seat, she noted an odd pitch to her companion's tone: not irritation, precisely, but -

"Well?"

The brunette cocked her head, noting as Elsie's left foot tapped the ground impatiently.

 _Why is she so anxious?_

There was no reason for her friend's agitation; indeed, she'd been her happy-go-lucky self all day - at least until now.

Lara whipped out her phone and thumbed the screen.

"According to this there's a megalithic site up there," remarked the archaeologist, pointing the device in the direction of the hill. "A stone circle, no estimated date of origin, so it's probably never been excavated. I thought it might strike your fancy."

The American didn't so much as glance in the direction of the hill, instead maintaining her gaze resolutely fixed on the brunette.

"Not really, no."

Lara did a double take as she hung her helmet from the motorcycle's handlebar.

"I'm sorry?"

Elsie shifted.

"It's too far," said the blonde. "And it's fenced off, so -"

"That's Common Land," interrupted the brunette, frowning. "We won't be trespassing. And we've travelled considerably further afoot these past two days...why is this suddenly a problem?"

Elsie twisted her toe into the ground. "Nothing, it...it's just a bunch of old rocks, is all."

Lara was incredulous. "Old rocks? Elsie, I've seen your library, I counted three books on Stonehenge alone!"

"Yeah, well, you've seen one stone circle, you've seen 'em all," retorted the American. "Can we get going, please?"

The Englishwoman threw her arms out in exasperation.

"I don't understand you, yesterday I practically had to _peel_ you off a dolmen! I was beginning to think we were going to have to sleep under there!"

Lara had become familiar with her companion's body language over the past two years - the blonde was visibly squirming.

"I...I just -"

"What's wrong?"

Elsie's gaze shifted from the motorcycle to the pastures behind the brunette, then down the gravel road from whence they'd come. Anywhere but at the archaeologist.

"Nothing, it's just -"

"Look at me."

The blonde swung her helmet lightly against her hip but kept her gaze averted. Lara arched an eyebrow.

"What's gotten into you?"

Elsie's shoulders sagged. For a fleeting moment, Lara thought she might actually get an honest answer.

Sighing, the American dropped her helmet and drew up to her companion. Idly fingering the magatama at the base of the archaeologist's throat, her voice took on a decidedly muted tone.

"We have just two days left. I'd much rather spend them with you, especially now that we can...you know..."

Lara's lips parted slightly. Though there was no hint of a lie in the blonde's words, the Englishwoman couldn't shake the feeling her companion was carefully steering her away from the truth - whatever it was.

Lara chewed her lip; chestnut and flaxen fringes intermingled.

"Tell me what's going on," rasped the brunette, the blonde's proximity threatening to impede her quest for veracity.

Elsie leaned in.

"Just go with me on this," whispered the blonde as her lips brushed the Englishwoman's.

Lara could feel her companion's hand cradle the back of her skull as their mouths formed a perfect seal. The brunette glanced at the distant hill out of the corner of her eye.

 _I'm trying..._

~ oOo ~

The blonde's faint breathing fluttered against the crook of her neck; it was a pleasant sensation that the brunette was reluctant to interrupt.

But what choice was there?

Lara kept her voice to a whisper. "Elsie…?"

The blonde stirred, nuzzling her jaw.

"Hmmmm…?"

 _Shit…_

"Sorry," breathed the brunette, running her fingers through her companion's flaxen mane. "Go back to sleep."

She would have to wait a little longer.

"T'swrong," murmured the blonde as she slid up on the pillow, the pleasantly light breaths now feathering Lara's left cheek.

"Nothing," replied the archaeologist. "Just...couldn't sleep, is all."

Elsie stifled a yawn and slowly stretched out under the blankets before settling back against the brunette.

"Try and get some shuteye, ya?" cooed the blonde softly into the archaeologist's ear. "Gotta build up your strength for tomor—"

"Why'd you take my ticket stubs?"

Elsie's breathing hiccupped. Not that Lara could blame her, really – the accusation had burst out of her without warning, with more forcefulness than she'd intended. But she was tiring of being kept in the dark.

"I...I don't know what you -"

"And you say _I'm_ a terrible fibber," shot back the brunette. "Why'd you lie about Heathrow?"

The blonde stiffened.

Lara waited impatiently for a response.

"Elsie -"

"Don't," whispered the American. "Please."

Lara pushed herself up on her elbow and glared at her companion.

"A day of my life has inexplicably vanished and you want me to just…carry on as though nothing happened?"

Elsie slowly drew up to face the archaeologist, her expression sombre.

"That's what I'm asking, yeah."

The brunette gaped at her friend in disbelief.

"Are you off your trolley?"

The blonde's gaze faltered. Lara's took no satisfaction from her companion's wretched countenance – but she was determined to fill the gaping hole in her memory.

"You know what happened," stated Lara. It was not posed as a question.

After several long moments of gazing into the bedsheets, the American gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Sensing a brief advantage, Lara pressed on. "Then tell me."

"I can't," whispered the blonde, shaking her head.

The Englishwoman huffed. "Bloody Hell, Elsie! After all we've been through, we're going to start keeping secrets from each other?"

The blonde visibly flinched; Lara had to force herself not to reach out to her friend.

Elsie tugged distractedly at the corner of her pillow, unwilling to make eye contact with the archaeologist.

"Do you trust me, Lara?"

The blonde's voice was weak, tentative.

Lara's shoulders dipped. Despite everything, there could only be one answer.

"Oh, Elsie...of course I do," sighed the archaeologist. "But you've made it so difficult these last few days. You lied about the airport, you rummaged through my bag...how am I supposed to react to that?"

The small bedroom was filled with an awkward silence as the American continued to fidget with her pillow.

"So that's it, then?" asked the Englishwoman.

Elsie shook her head at the bedsheets.

"I won't lose you," she whispered. "I'd rather let the world burn."

Lara blinked, her breath momentarily catching in her throat. "Elsie...are you saying you're somehow protecting me?"

The blonde's head shot up, grey eyes wide.

"I - I didn't say that…"

"Didn't you?"

A nervous swallow. "N-no!"

"What, then?"

Elsie bit her bottom lip.

Lara huffed. "Oh, for God's sake -"

The blonde shuffled close and pressed her palm to Lara's cheek.

"I'm asking you to trust me," pleaded the American, her glistening eyes reflecting the moonlight striking the wall. "Just...let it go. Please?"

The brunette frowned. Acquiescing to her friend's request would go against every fibre of her being - her life was devoted to uncovering truths, after all. It was all the more frustrating that the answers she sought lay directly before her.

She couldn't simply walk away - it would cast a shadow over her relationship with the blonde.

But she would have to find the answers on her own.

So she gave the one response her friend would accept.

She drew in a deep breath.

"Fine."

~ oOo ~

Lara removed her helmet and set it atop the motorcycle's seat. In the distance, the ash-grey horizon betrayed the first glimmers of predawn light.

The archaeologist swore under her breath; she'd come much later than she'd intended - dawn was less than an hour away. But it couldn't be helped.

Every time she'd tried to extract herself from her friend's clutches she'd ended up waking the blonde, forcing her to repeatedly postpone her departure. It was early morning before she'd finally managed to slip out of bed without stirring her companion.

And she was already running out of time; she knew there was little chance of getting back before Elsie woke - and she'd left no note.

Lara sighed; it was a bridge that would need crossing - if not outright repair.

In the meantime…

Leaving her motorcycle at the side of the road, Lara pivoted smoothly over the dry stone wall, her boots planting down into spongy peat on the opposite side. The familiar hill loomed in the distance, the distinct shape of its near-vertical eastern façade confirming she'd returned to the scene of Elsie's inexplicable discomfiture.

Perhaps now, at least, she might find some answers.

As she set off, the Englishwoman mused about what she might find atop the hill. And more importantly, the reasons behind Elsie's apparent duplicity.

In the near darkness, the Englishwoman stumbled once or twice as her feet would periodically sink into the peat. She cursed herself for not bringing a glow stick. To say nothing of her climbing axe.

She fingered the pocketknife in her pocket, not that it provided much in the way of reassurance; without the heft of the more familiar weapon in her palm, she felt decidedly unprotected.

As she reached the base of the hill, she paused a moment to scan for any obvious trails leading into the trees - a tall order, given the lack of light.

Impossible, as it turned out. _Well, then_ … _I guess there's nothing for it..._

Plunging into the woods, she began the slow trek up the slope, the ancient, gnarled trunks evidence the trees here had never been subject to coppicing.

In the poor light it was virtually impossible to avoid snags from the thick tangle of branches; by the time the ground began to level out near the top Lara was certain she'd torn her shirt in several places, if the burning scratches on her arms and shoulders were an accurate barometer.

More disturbingly, there was no way to move silently. Lara swore under her breath; if there was anyone up here, they'd easily detect her approach amid the constant rustling and cracking of branches. She may as well have been carrying a portable radio and playing Rihanna's latest hits.

The thick tangle of limbs finally began to thin out. Coming to the edge of an apparent clearing, a shadowy figure suddenly loomed before her, barely discernible against the coal dust horizon.

She froze.

Strangely, it gave no reaction to her presence. It seemed impossible she could've approached this close without being detected.

She ran her hand along her thigh, her finger tracing the outline of her pocketknife.

The figure remained resolutely immobile.

Lara edged closer, wincing at the rustle of her clothing.

Several more figures came into view, each one as still and as silent as the first.

 _Oh, bloody Hell..._

Stones.

It was a stone circle.

Lara let out a breath, her heartbeat slowing slightly.

She approached the nearest monolith. It was a good two feet taller than her; the eight other stones forming the ancient circle varying in height and shape, some tilting precariously through millennia of neglect.

Beyond the circle no trees obscured the murky horizon - the escarpment was likely just behind, reasoned the brunette.

Disappointingly, she was alone.

Moving slowly among the stones, the archaeologist searched for any sign of human activity. There was no detritus of tourists, no remnants of campfires.

Nor, she lamented, any answers. She kicked the ground in frustration.

"Shit..."

A buzz in her pocket startled the brunette. She retrieved her phone and thumbed the screen.

"Oh, shit...shit..."

A text message from Elsie:

 _WTF? WHERE R U?_

Her phone began vibrating.

Lara chewed her lip and turned off the device before returning it to her pocket.

 _There will be hell to pay...was it worth it, Croft?_

A flutter of wings shot by the brunette's head, causing her to duck in reaction. Had she intruded on a nearby nest?

She straightened up and turned in the direction of a slowly bobbing branch behind her.

"Sorry," she said softly.

As her eyes adjusted, she frowned at the tiny form perched above her. She was no ornithologist, but…something was off.

The wings were slowly oscillating, brief glimmers of iridescence reflecting the faint tendrils of light from the horizon.

Lara drew in a disbelieving breath.

She took a tentative step forward to confirm what her eyes were trying to convince her brain: there, perched atop a branch not two yards from her, was a tiny humanoid a little over a hand's span in height, clad in what appeared to be moss-covered leaves and brandishing oversized dragonfly wings.

 _Impossible!_

The archaeologist blinked. It had no effect.

 _These are myth, given life by superstition...aren't they?_

And yet, she was fairly certain she was not hallucinating.

Moreover, she'd seen this creature's particular face before. In Lily's reading room.

Lara had given up trying to make sense of it. She'd tucked the memory away in her mental drawer of the unexplainable.

Only this time the tiny figure made no attempt to disguise itself as a statuette; it was clearly moving, breathing...and gazing down at her with an expression that mirrored the Englishwoman's own disbelief.

Lara realized it was slowly shaking its head at her.

"The Cottingley stories have nothing on you, do they," breathed the brunette in wonder.

The faerie pointed in the direction of the road.

Lara blinked.

"Um..."

The figure shot off the branch and came to hover directly before her, thrusting a tiny arm southward.

"You...want me to leave?"

The faerie's face contorted in frustration as it pointed both arms in renewed emphasis.

The brunette cocked her head. "South, yes...can't you speak?"

The creature suddenly shot out of sight. Lara spun around in an attempt to track it, to no avail.

There followed a surprisingly vigorous tug on her ponytail which caused the brunette to stumble briefly in surprise. Planting her feet, Lara shook her head violently until her ponytail swung loose.

"Bugger off!"

The faerie fluttered back into view, her hands clasped together in supplication.

"I'm not leaving without answers," declared the brunette resolutely.

The creature shook its head. Lara crossed her arms.

"Well then, we're at an impasse."

The faerie was becoming increasingly agitated. The archaeologist briefly flirted with the notion of leaving, such was the creature's growing consternation at her continued presence. But she quickly dismissed the thought - her answers lay here, somewhere.

But how to find them?

One possibility came to mind.

Turning on her heel, the brunette walked over to one of the precariously leaning stones. She placed her palm against its weathered surface and turned to face the faerie.

"It would be most unfortunate if something were to cause this to topple over," bluffed the archaeologist.

The faerie let out a sharp chirp of alarm and waved her hands frantically.

Lara dropped her arm to her side.

"Well, then..."

The tiny creature's shoulders drooped in defeat.

It fluttered closer until it hovered before the brunette, its wing beats sending ripples through Lara's fringe. Gazing at the Englishwoman with obvious reluctance, it leaned in and pressed a tiny palm against Lara's brow.

The effect was immediate: the brunette's sight dissolved into murky fog as she experienced a moment of severe disorientation, gasping as her feet seemed to float from the ground before re-establishing contact moments later. Sounds, smells and sights slowly coalesced into discernible patterns.

Only now there was light; evening, judging from the merging of pink and violet overhead.

She was moving through a thick tangle of trees.

She was climbing the same hill.

But unlike her previous trek the daylight enabled her to avoid the worst of the snags.

A soft rustling behind her. Lara tried to turn her head and look, but quickly discovered she had no control over her body.

A memory.

 _So...that was you, then, was it..?_

"Hold up a second."

The voice had come from behind.

Elsie.

The brunette duly came to a halt and turned to see the familiar form of the American.

"What is it?"

The blonde held up a finger. "Listen."

The Englishwoman stilled. Straining to filter out the mix of faint birdsong and wind-driven rustle of branches, she could just make faint voices in the distance.

Singing.

Slow, melodious humming. Vaguely reminiscent of a women's choir, thought the brunette. But here?

She frowned at the blonde, who smiled back at her excitedly.

"Let's check it out!"

Lara could only shrug in reply.

The impossibility of influencing past events suddenly weighed on her: could Elsie's deception have been justified?

If so, then she was embarking on a dangerous road.

 _Tickling the dragon's tail…_

They resumed their slow trek up the hill, being mindful of interposing branches so as not to give away their approach.

The voices slowly grew louder as they reached level ground, until Lara could just make out faint movement through the trees. She made for a thick patch of shrubs that would afford some concealment. Crouching down, she peered through the undergrowth.

Her jaw literally dropped at the spectacle before her.

Within the stone circle danced a group of women: nine in all, Lara counted, clad in cloaks of strangely shimmering colours that alternated from earthy browns to leafy greens to sky blue and sunset gold as they moved in slow, graceful circles amidst the ancient monoliths, their ethereal voices merging in flawless harmony to produce song which threatened to beguile the archaeologist. The brunette was so entranced that she was only dimly aware as Elsie crouched down next to her.

Neither women spoke, transfixed into silence by the mysterious ceremony being played out amidst the weathered stones. Further adding to the spectacle were dozens of tiny balls of iridescent lights seemingly dancing of their own accord in concert with the otherworldly melody.

Lara was transfixed. Just what was she witnessing?

The women's movements were impossibly graceful, almost seeming to float off the ground, though the shimmering cloaks made it impossible to be certain.

This was no village troupe, she realized. The women varied wildly in age, but all were spectacularly beautiful, and seemed to glow with an inner light.

They weren't human.

 _But who are they…?_

A hand on her shoulder.

"Let's get out of here," whispered Elsie into her ear, her voice apprehensive. "We shouldn't be seeing this..."

Lara didn't move. Elsie's grip on her shoulder tightened.

"Lara, come on!"

Lara blinked, forcing herself to look away from the spectacle – which she only accomplished with difficulty.

"We shouldn't be here," hissed the American, grey eyes wide. "If they see us -"

The tone in Elsie's voice was such that Lara feared panicking her friend if they remained much longer.

"All right," agreed the brunette as she fished her phone out of her pocket. "Just a few more seconds..."

The archaeologist pushed the device into a gap in the greenery, but before she could start recording Elsie snatched the device from her hand.

"Are you _insane?_ "

"Bloody Hell, Elsie -"

The blonde slowly craned her neck towards the stones.

"Oh, fuck..."

The hairs on the back of the brunette's neck prickled. The singing had stopped.

A wave of disorientation suddenly struck the Englishwoman, her surroundings quickly plunging into near darkness.

Elsie was gone.

The only sound was a rapid flutter of tiny wings, growing fainter – and her own rapid breathing.

"Wait!" called out the archaeologist. "Why'd you stop?"

Lara flinched as a ghostly voice suddenly echoed in her ear. The brunette reacted instinctively, throwing herself into a roll and coming up on one knee, pocketknife extended defensively.

But she could see no one.

She stayed in the crouched position and waited, eyes darting nervously – she hadn't imagined it.

The voice spoke again, seemingly conjured from the very air around her.

"You were given a second chance, Lara Croft. Your life is now forfeit."


	9. What Price A Life

A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 9

Lara's eyes popped open to ashen skies.

There was no lingering grogginess – she hadn't been sleeping.

A soft sobbing reached her ears. The brunette shot up into a sitting position.

She was in the centre of the stone circle; judging from the prevailing light, it was at least mid-morning.

But of more immediate concern was the crumpled form on her right, sitting back on her knees, face buried in her palms.

Lara reached out and gently lowered the blonde's wrists.

"Elsie…?"

The American slowly raised her head level with the Englishwoman's, gazing upon her companion with severely reddened eyes.

"You just couldn't leave it alone, could you?" asked the blonde, her voice hoarse. "Was it really so hard for you to put your trust in me?"

"I..."

The brunette quickly scanned the hilltop; so far as she could tell, they were alone.

"Elsie…how did you get here?"

The blonde's shoulders drooped.

"Really, Lara? That's the question that needs asking right now? I swiped Ivy's scooter, if that makes any difference..."

The archaeologist bit her lip at the pain in the American's words. But there more pressing matters.

"Come on," said Lara as she scrambled to her feet. "We'll talk about this later…we have to get out of here."

The blonde made no motion.

"Elsie –"

The American slowly shook her head.

"There's no getting out," choked the blonde. "Not for me."

The Englishwoman frowned.

"What are you going on about?"

The American drew in a long shuddering breath, her gaze fixed on the ground.

"This is where we part ways, Lara…"

The finality of her friend's tone sent chills down the brunette's spine.

Throwing herself down before the blonde, Lara ignored the sharp pain as her knees impacted the hardened earth.

"Are you daft? Why would you say such a thing?"

Elsie swallowed awkwardly.

"It's...out of my hands, now. But you're safe...that's all that matters..."

Lara could feel her brow beading with sweat. She didn't like the sound of that – at all.

"Elsie...what did you do?"

The American shook her head again.

"She has paid your debt, Lara Croft."

The archaeologist scrambled to her feet at the unexpected sound, the same disembodied voice she'd heard previously. Her eyes darted around the stone circle, trying to determine its source - but she and Elsie were still alone.

"Who's there?" barked the brunette to the air. "Show yourself!"

"Lara, don't –"

"SHOW YOURSELF!" repeated the Englishwoman hotly.

For several moments all was quiet, with not even the faint chirping of birds permeating the hilltop. The brunette ran her palm against her thigh, detecting the absence of her pocketknife. Not that it would have made much of a difference, she suspected - but any weapon was better than none.

"Does this better suit your expectations?"

The archaeologist whirled about. Before her stood a woman rivaling Brienne of Tarth in stature, clad in a simple grey cloak and yet possessed of a distinctly regal bearing. Even though she bore no accoutrements of rank or position, Lara sensed this was a woman of power.

And most likely, mused the archaeologist, not born of humanity.

Her age was indistinct; though her hair was long and silvery-grey, her face was unlined. She could be in her thirties - or unimaginably ancient.

"Who are you?"

"Again, your insatiable thirst for knowledge," returned the woman. "Some mysteries are best left unexplored, Lara Croft. I fear your curiosity will be your end."

"Let me guess," shot back the brunette. "This hill is hollow and you and your ilk live within?"

The woman smiled.

"If it helps in your understanding, then...very well."

Lara's breath stilled momentarily as realization sunk in. The woman wasn't joking.

The ancient legends. The myths from the mists of time.

 _People of the Hills._

 _Tuatha De Dannan. Sidhe._

Lara would've normally dismissed the notion as utter bollocks - but this woman had literally appeared from nowhere.

The archaeologist swallowed. "So…what now?"

"As your friend stated," continued the woman, "a settlement has been reached. You may go. And pray you never return."

Lara put her hands on her hips. "I'll need to know the details of this 'settlement' before I agree to anything."

The woman's serene smile faded.

"It is not conditional upon your acceptance," Said the Sidhe. "Consider yourself fortunate, Lara Croft. You profaned a sacred rite, an offence made all the worse by your attempt to bring knowledge of it into your world. It is only your friend's pleading that stayed our hand."

Lara glanced at Elsie; the blonde's gaze was still fixed on the patch of ground, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"What...what did she..."

The woman continued: "It was she who begged that your memory of that day be purged from your consciousness...and we agreed, on condition that were you to return to this place it would be on pain of death. And now here you stand once more."

The brunette's foot twitched. "But...you just said I could leave."

"Indeed."

Lara arched a dubious eyebrow. "Just like that? No consequences?"

The woman's unblinking stare was unnerving.

"None to you."

The Sidhe shifted her gaze to Elsie.

The brunette drew in a sharp breath.

"Oh no," said Lara as she interposed herself between the woman and her friend. "No you won't..."

"A life is forfeit, Lara Croft, as we said," repeated the Sidhe. "The price must be paid."

"Bullocks!"

The Englishwoman had heard enough. She stepped back and grasped Elsie's arm, hauling the blonde forcibly to her feet.

"We're getting out of here," she announced as she shot a warning glare at the woman, who oddly made no move to stop them.

It was Elsie herself who unexpectedly fought Lara's pull, managing to tear herself free after just a few steps.

"Let me GO!"

Lara made a move to re-acquire her grip on the blonde, only to have her draw back out of reach.

"For God's sake, Elsie -"

"I can't leave!" cried the American, her voice strained. "If I leave, you die!"

"I'll take my chances," growled the brunette as she made another grab for her friend - only to miss as Elsie scuttled back.

"Stop that!"

"The time has come, Lara Croft," intoned the woman in her ethereal voice. "Your friend understands what is at stake. We will grant you a few moments to make your farewell."

The Englishwoman snarled. "Oh, bugger this!"

And launched herself at the Sidhe, her powerful legs sending her flying towards her target.

Her hands clutched fistfuls of empty air.

The brunette tumbled to the ground.

"LARA, NO!"

The archaeologist rolled with the momentum and was back on her feet in an instant, Elsie pulling her back by her belt.

"Don't!" pleaded the blonde. "Lara, don't! You're just going to piss them off!"

Lara quickly glanced about the hilltop. They were seemingly alone - at least for the moment.

Taking advantage of the Amercian's proximity, she quickly clamped down on her companion's wrist.

"Come on!" barked the Englishwoman as she made for the trees.

Elsie fought to break her hold with increasing desperation at every step, to the point that it was all Lara could do to keep moving: forward progress had slowed to a veritable crawl.

"Stop fighting me!"

"Let go!"

"I'll carry you if I have t-"

"Going somewhere?"

Lara spun around, the blonde taking advantage of the momentary distraction to yank her arm free of her companion's grip.

The Englishwoman found herself staring at a young female that looked to be barely out of her teens, though it was her attire that differentiated her more starkly from her predecessor: she was clad in surprisingly modern garb, from her knee-high boots and jeans to a velvet top, accentuated by a stylish belt and an expensive looking leather jacket. All in all, it was an ensemble that wouldn't have looked out of place in Sam's closet.

Only in this case, it was all comprised of varying shades of greens and browns, from olive to cucumber to coffee to chocolate; even the girl's hair was of a deep evergreen hue. Her skin was a walnut brown. Only her eyes differed in colour, being a striking shade of Lilac.

And she was almost ridiculously beautiful, noted the archaeologist.

But the girl's allure was tempered by a gaze that made Lara feel as though she were a mouse that had just been dropped into a maze.

This was not a garden variety faerie – but no less dangerous, if the stories Winston had read to her were true.

"I am, in fact," replied Lara, edging back towards teh American while maintaining her front to the strange girl. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

The Sidhe shrugged. "Others pass sentence, I'm simply the one who carries it out. So be nice."

The girl's speech and mannerisms were strangely cosmopolitan, noted the archaeologist - but there was no time for investigation.

She extended her arm behind her.

"Come on, Elsie."

"Lara, no..."

"Oh, but she stays," countered the girl, sauntering closer. "A life is forfeit, remember? I would've thought you'd be more appreciative it wasn't yours."

The brunette took another half step back. "You're not touching her."

The girl smiled - unexpectedly brightly, noted the archaeologist.

"You're right," agreed the Sidhe. "Since you'll be the one doing the deed."

Lara's jaw dropped.

The girl cocked her head and continued: "So much more interesting that way, don't you think?"

"You little SHIT!" barked the brunette furiously, balling her fists. "There's no power on Earth that would make me do that!"

The girl's smile widened into a worrisome grin.

"Oh, really? Do I detect a dare?"

Lara's hand instinctively drifted down to her belt, her fingers unconsciously fumbling for a nonexistent weapon.

The Sidhe gave a casual wave of her hand, as though introducing a prize on a television game show.

An object coalesced before the brunette from seemingly the air itself. Browned with age and roughly rectangular, it fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Lara blinked as she strained to make out the details.

 _Oh, bloody Hell..._

Splayed out on the ground not three feet before her was the Voynich Manuscript.


	10. The Game

A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 10

"I think you were looking for this...?"

There was no mistaking the images on the ancient parchment; Lara took a half-step forward before stopping herself.

The goal she'd desperately sought for weeks lay just a few feet from her. But the price was entirely too high.

She tore her gaze from the ancient book and glared at the Sidhe.

"If you think this changes anything, you're sadly mistaken."

The girl raised an eyebrow.

A hand gently cupped the Englishwoman's shoulder.

"Lara...is that...?"

"It doesn't matter," replied the archaeologist sharply. "She can sod off."

"It _does_ matter," countered the American. "Think of what you could do with this -"

The brunette whirled on her companion.

" _No_ , Elsie," returned the Englishwoman, grasping her companion's shoulders. "We're getting out of here. Both of us."

"Stop it!" pleaded the blonde, her grey eyes welling anew. "I'm not walking out of here...you have to accept that..."

Lara frowned at her companion. "Bullocks. We've gotten out of tight spots before -"

"Listen to me!" begged Elsie, entwining her arms around her friend's. "Please just listen for once! That book...if you can use it to expose those Trinity dudes...take them down..."

Lara swallowed uncomfortably. She was well aware of what the manuscript potentially offered - she would give anything to get her hands on it.

 _\- almost_ anything.

"For one, there's no guarantee of that," countered the brunette. "And two, I will never pay that price! You're not a bloody bargaining chip!"

The American drew back, arms falling to her sides.

"That's all I am now, Lara," said Elsie miserably. "Whether you accept it or not…"

"Stop saying that!"

"It's true," returned the blonde. "But with the manuscript...Lara, think of all the lives you could save..."

"Not at the cost of yours!"

"I'M ALREADY DEAD!" cried Elsie, pounding her chest in emphasis.

Lara clenched her jaw to keep her bottom lip from quivering: the mere notion of never seeing her friend again was stomach-churning.

The blonde pressed on, her voice laced with strain: "You can't weigh one life against hundreds, maybe even thousands…even if you had a choice, do you think I could live with that?"

The brunette drew forward and cupped her palms to Elsie's cheeks, fighting back a surge of emotions.

"Do you think I could?" returned the archaeologist. "You told me once that life isn't a number's game...you can't have it both ways!"

The blonde drew in a shuddering breath. "That was different..."

Lara shook her head. "No, Elsie. Bloody Hell, just yesterday you were saying how you'd let the world burn rather than let anything happen to me! Don't you think I feel the same way?"

Elsie gently peeled off her companion's hands before drawing back, tears glistening her cheeks.

"It's more than that. I have a chance, Lara...a chance to make good..."

The Englishwoman's heart lurched. "Make good...on what? Elsie, I don't understand..."

The blonde clutched her shirt between white-knuckled fingers.

"Do you know what it's like to lose someone you love because you were powerless to help? To feel their life slip through your fingers...? To watch them just…just..."

Elsie's shoulders shook with grief as Lara wrapped the blonde in her arms.

"I do know, Elsie," rasped the brunette as she stroked the flaxen mane. "Though I wish I didn't..."

Lara resisted the urge to cast a backwards glance – but thus far the Sidhe seemed content to let things play out.

"This is about your friend, isn't it?" ventured the brunette gently. "Elsie, you can't change what happened. You can't throw away your life because of -"

"You don't understand," sobbed the blonde into the brunette's shoulder. "She saved my life…she turned the wheel...last second...her side took the impact..."

Lara pressed her cheek to her friend's forehead.

"I'm so sorry…I didn't know. But I thought you'd come to terms with that..."

Elsie drew in several ragged breaths before answering.

"I thought so too," squeaked the blonde.

Lara's bottom lip trembled as she clutched her friend tightly. "Oh, Elsie..."

"I can't bring her back," cried the blonde into her companion's cheek. "But if I can keep you from meeting the same fate...maybe she won't have died for nothing..."

"She _didn't_ die for nothing, Elsie," countered the brunette. "Your very life is proof of that."

The American shook her head. "Please take the book...so much at stake..."

Lara gently grasped the blonde by the shoulders and pushed back until she was staring into bloodshot grey eyes.

"Elsie, no," rasped the archaeologist. "I won't partake in this...this sacrifice! Irrelevant of what's on the other side of the balance sheet!"

The two friends stared at each other in until the blonde's shoulders finally sagged in apparent acquiescence.

"You're right," finally admitted the American, her voice hoarse. "I shouldn't ask you to make that choice..."

The brunette caressed her cheek and smiled. "That's my girl. We'll figure this out. "

Elsie nodded slowly and drew back.

"Then...I'll make it for you..."

Lara's spine became ice.

She stepped forward, only to have the blonde keep out of reach.

"What are you doing?"

But in horror she'd already divined the American's intention: beyond the stone circle lay the ancient escarpment, a near hundred foot drop that tapered out to a sharp slope of jagged stone.

Lara knew such a fall would almost certainly prove fatal - and Elsie's fragility would do nothing to improve her odds.

"Stop," implored the brunette as she slowly advanced, mindful of the blonde's fleetness of foot. If Elsie bolted, the odds of the Englishwoman winning the roughly twenty yard sprint would be slim at best.

Her only advantage was that the blonde was facing her, edging backward; the moment she'd turn to run would present the brunette with a split second where she could close the gap – but it would be an eye blink moment.

Lara tensed as she crept forward: she knew full well the consequences of a miss.

"I wish...I wish I could tell you...make you _feel_ …just how much you've meant to me," said the blonde, her voice cracking with emotion as she continued to edge back.

"No," rasped the brunette. "Don't you fucking do this…"

Elsie's cheeks glistened with tears as she continued her inexorable retreat. It dawned on Lara that the blonde might not give her the opportunity she needed – and every second brought her closer to the precipice.

"I love you," choked Elsie.

Lara lunged.

Her outstretched hand connected with the American's shin. For the briefest of moments her fingers wrapped themselves around their quarry, but the hard impact with the ground combined with the blonde's flight caused her grip to slip – and the blonde was off and running.

 _No!_

But her momentary hold had thrown the American's stride askew, her shoulder striking the flank of one of the ancient moonlights. It was only a glancing blow, but the stone's unyielding mass threw the energy of the impact squarely back at the blonde, caused her to tumble to the ground. But Lara knew she would not be down long.

The archaeologist pushed off in an instant, flinging herself with an energy born of desperation – Elsie was already scrambling back to her feet.

The brunette collided bodily with the blonde, sending both women into a fresh tumble. Only this time Lara's hand managed a firm grip just above the American's ankle.

Elsie scrambled back on her elbows, desperately trying to kick herself free of the

Englishwoman's hold. Lara's grip slipped, her fingers clutching instead to a fistful of denim: and with the blonde's frantic retreat, she was being given no opportunity to move up to get a better grip.

She resorted to brute force.

Jerking back on the pant leg, Lara managed to interrupt the violent thrashing enough to clamp her left hand onto the heel of Elsie's trainer. Releasing her hold on the denim, she slapped her right on the blonde's toe box.

 _Got you!_

It worked. Her two-handed hold on her friend's foot greatly reduced the amount of energy Elsie could impart to her kicks. The blonde finally ceased her backward progress, being unable to drag the Englishwoman's prone form further.

But Lara had not yet won: the American was just waiting for the briefest slackening of the archaeologist's hold to renew the struggle.

Stalemate. The two women stared at each other, breathing heavily.

Elsie cocked her free leg back, her heel aimed at her companion's forehead.

"Don't make me do this," panted the blonde.

Lara knew that should it connect, such a kick stood a fair chance of knocking her senseless, if even momentarily - and that would be the end of it.

There was only one play left to her, sickened as she was by the prospect.

"Forgive me…"

Lara violently jerked her hands in opposite directions, muscles straining to the limit: the sudden motion twisted Elsie's foot to an unnatural angle.

A muffled crack of bone. An ear-splitting scream as Elsie threw her head back and wailed to the heavens, the shrieks scarring the Englishwoman's soul. The blonde thrashed in renewed frenzy, but the movements were reactionary, without stratagem: Lara finally had her opening.

The brunette scrambled forward and threw her arms around the blonde, the action intended to both succour and restrain - the edge of the escarpment loomed dangerously close.

"I'm sorry," cried Lara, her heart twisting as Elsie's screams devolved into agony-laced gasping. "I'm so sorry..."

The Englishwoman had long been a creature of necessity. Killing enemies. Destroying artefacts to prevent their falling into the wrong hands.

But injuring the blonde - even to save her life - struck her particularly hard. But Elsie would heal.

And more importantly, she would live.

The Sidhe sauntered into view.

"You might have been better off to let her go," said the girl with unnerving casualness. "If you want that book -"

"SOD OFF!" snapped the Englishwoman.

The Sidhe arched an eyebrow, but duly drifted out of sight.

The blonde was trembling from the fire consuming her shattered ankle.

"Won't...let you die," gasped the American as she clutched the brunette. "I won't...I won't..."

"No one dies here, Elsie," returned Lara softly, gently running her fingers through the young woman's disheveled mane. "We'll figure this out..."

The blonde pressed her cheek against the brunette's. "I'm gone...you have to accept..."

Lara tightened her grip on her companion. "Stop saying that!"

Elsie swallowed hard.

"Always wanted...to make a difference," choked the American. "Never really could in life...but maybe now..."

Lara drew back and raised her fingers under her blonde's chin. Brown and grey eyes locked.

"How can you even say that?" asked the Englishwoman painfully. "Elsie, your life is anything but meaningless!"

The Englishwoman's stomach lurched at the American's wretched countenance; she'd never seen her friend so utterly despairing.

"Bloody Hell, I'd be long _dead_ right now if it wasn't for you," continued the brunette, her voice wracked with emotion. "And more than that...Elsie, you've been a light in my life since the day I met you. I was not in a good place back then...but you pulled me back from the edge. You made me realize there's more to life than always looking over my shoulder...than always digging through the past. That some treasures aren't to be found hidden under layers of dirt and rubble..."

Elsie shook her head again, tears of anguish and agony staining her cheeks.

"You made a _difference_ ," returned the Englishwoman, clutching the blonde's shoulders in emphasis. "And what about Doppie?"

Elsie slowly shook her head. "She...she'll manage..."

"No, Elsie," replied Lara solemnly. "She won't."

The blonde's rapid breathing became shallow. "What do you mean by that...what are you saying?"

Lara took a deep breath: she'd be breaking her promise. But the situation was desperate.

"You're the onlyreason she still exists, Elsie."

The blonde's bloodshot eyes widened.

"No...no, she wouldn't..."

"I might've been the unwitting catalyst that brought her into this world," explained the archaeologist solemnly. "But Elsie, you're what's keeping her in it."

Elsie's bottom lip trembled.

"She...she told you that?"

Lara nodded. "Your friendship...it's all that matters to her."

Elsie ran a shaking hand back through her hair. "I thought...I mean, I knew she...I just didn't think it was that bad..."

The blonde's shoulders sagged.

"Oh god, Lara...what am I going to do?"

The brunette leaned close.

"Help me save two lives today," pleaded the archaeologist. "Give me my Elsie back. The girl that never quits, that never gives give up, the one who helps me out of jams...I really need her right now."

The blonde drew in a shuddering breath. "I just...can't see how -"

Lara's grip on her friend's shoulders tightened.

"I've seen your library, " whispered the brunette so as not to be overheard. "You know the legends, the stories. You know these... _beings_...better than I do. Give me something I can use."

The American frowned.

"Don't you think I've already tried to figure a way out of this?" returned the blonde plaintively. "This is a game for them, Lara...we've flubbed two moves and now we're in checkmate."

The Englishwoman's eyebrows slowly rose. A distant memory drifted back into awareness - something Winston had read to her during that rainy night so many years before.

Riddles. Contests. They loved pitting wits against mortals.

"It maybe chess to them, Elsie," whispered the brunette. "But...what if we were to change the game?"

"I...I'm not sure what -"

The archaeologist caressed the blonde's cheek. "Promise me you won't go anywhere."

Elsie winced as she shifted her injured leg. "I think...you've taken care of that already..."

"Promise me," insisted Lara, intensely conscious of the escarpment's uncomfortable proximity.

The American sighed. But she nodded to the brunette's satisfaction.

Lara pushed off and rounded on the Sidhe: the girl was casually leaning back against one of the ancient stones, legs crossed as though waiting for a double decker.

"Let's make this even more interesting, shall we?"

The Sidhe straightened, her curiosity piqued.

"What do you have in mind?"

Lara tried to conceal her nervousness; she was accustomed to throwing her own life on the roulette table, but now...

"Let's raise the stakes," proposed the brunette. "Double or nothing."

"Lara, NO!" protested Elsie.

A wry smile crossed the girl's features.

"You have spirit, Lara," said the Sidhe in admiration. "I like that. I take it you're proposing a contest?"

"I am," affirmed the Englishwoman.

The girl sauntered over to stand before the brunette. "If you win?"

"We go free. Both of us."

The girl nodded slowly.

"And if you don't...?"

Lara swallowed. "Therein lies the 'nothing'..."

The girl's smile widened. "All right...but I get to pick the game."

"That's not -"

The Sidhe held up a finger. "Take it or leave it, as they say."

The brunette's shoulders sagged. _Shit..._

"Fine."

The girl grinned.

"Well now...what would be the best way to throw the indomitable Lara Croft off her game?" breathed the Sidhe as she slowly traced a finger along the archaeologist's collarbones. Lara stood perfectly still, forcing herself not to react to the strangely tingling touch.

The girl's violet eyes widened. "I know! Truth or Dare. That's a popular one, isn't it? First one who doesn't answer loses."

Lara gaped. "But...how will that work? We could simply lie."

"Not to worry," soothed the Sidhe. "I'll know if you're lying."

The brunette shifted. "And what if you do?"

That dazzling smile again. "I won't."

Lara huffed. "And you expect me to believe that?"

"Would it make you feel any better if I gave you my word?"

Lara sensed a trap. And sidestepped.

" _Are_ you giving it?"

A smirk. "You're a sharp one, aren't you? But yes, I'm giving you my word."

The brunette tapped her thigh nervously. "Why is that not exactly reassuring?"

The girl shrugged.

"I'm not the one who broke a sacred oath."

Lara threw her arms out. "How can I be held at fault for breaking a vow I have no recollection of making?"

The Sidhe cocked her head.

"Good point," conceded the girl. "But, that's a question for another day."

The Fey took a step back. "Ready?"

Lara sighed and nodded.

"Right," said the Sidhe. "I'll go first."

"Wait a minute, who says you -"

"House rules," stated the girl firmly. "And since I'm the House -"

"Fine!" barked the brunette.

The Sidhe's beautiful face settled into contemplation, tapping a finger along her cheek.

"Now then...what question might you refuse to answer?"

The Englishwoman's stomach was churning under the Sidhe's gaze; she couldn't shake the disturbing suspicion the girl knew everything about her.

"I know!" exclaimed the Sidhe. "Tell me, Lara...whom do you love most in the world?"

The brunette swallowed.

 _You would ask that..._

From behind, a soft voice.

"It...it's okay, Lara," said Elsie gently. "It's all right...I know where I stand..."

But in the Englishwoman's churning mind, the leanings of her heart were anything but distinct.

Memories fluttered into consciousness: curled up with Sam under a canopy of stars. Sitting together in the shadow of Kilimanjaro, a can of beans steaming over the campfire. Clasping a proffered chocolate-stuffed Union Jack mug as the filmmaker rambled on. Clutching an exhausted Sam as the clouds over Yamatai slowly dissipated.

Their tearful heart-to-heart at the Manor as the Japanese-American shoehorned her way back into the archaeologist's life, turning her back on her own family in the process.

Crouched down at a tent flap as Elsie smiled back at her, the unfamiliar grey eyes somehow reassuring. Running in desperation through blackened forest, the blonde's limp form in her arms. Clutching the trembling American close as the blonde tearfully bared the darkest recesses of her soul.

Stumbling back against the airport wall as a squealing Elsie flung herself at the archaeologist, wrapping her legs around the Englishwoman's waist for good measure.

The brunette's eyes clouded; both young women had irretrievably ensconced themselves in the deepest recesses of the Englishwoman's heart: how could she possibly cherish one over the other?

She could not, she finally realized. Any choice would be perjury.

"I...I don't know," finally croaked the archaeologist, shoulders sagging in defeat.

The girl frowned. "That's no answer."

"It's the only answer," rasped the brunette, shaking her head. "It's the only truth."

The Sidhe's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the Englishwoman.

There followed a lengthy silence as the archaeologist's breathing stilled.

"Fine. Your turn."

Lara let out a breath of relief, echoed by that of the blonde behind her. But she was now faced with a fresh conundrum: what question could she possibly pose that the _Tuatha de Dannan_ might refuse to answer?

She was at a severe disadvantage; she knew virtually nothing of their captors, while they evidently roam through her mind at will.

 _Time to get creative, Lara...what would she be loath to reveal?_

Lara ran her hand along the back of her neck.

"Is this…your home?"

Lara knew she'd flubbed the question before the Sidhe had even begun to laugh.

"Oh, that's cute," replied the girl, strolling along the edge of the stone circle. "Do you think we all live under hills, Lara? Don't believe everything you hear in faerie tales. Personally, I call London home. I only dropped in for the ceremony."

" _London?_ "

The girl spun an energetic pirouette. "So much to see...so much _life_ there, mundane as it is. You'd be surprised how many of us wander through your lives without your noticing. I've even seen your flat, though that was decades before you were born. It was rather nicer back then...a painter lived there originally, did you know? A good one, too, at least by mortal standards."

Lara swore under her breath.

"So, back to me, then."

The girl drummed her fingers along one of the stubbier monoliths. "So tell me, Lara...do you enjoy killing?"

Elsie let out a disbelieving gasp.

The Sidhe ignored the blonde, instead focusing her gaze on the Englishwoman.

The brunette had nearly blurted out the automatic response: _Of course not! -_ but forced herself to swallow the outburst.

The truth was altogether more complicated.

She could still visualize her first kill as though she still held the unchambered pistol in her hand; the sickening horror at having taken a human life, even in self-defence. The nightmares which had persisted months, years after Yamatai.

The unseeing eyes haunted her still.

The dark emotions that stirred deep within her could not be denied. She'd long tried to console herself that she only killed when left with no other choice, but once the carnage started the reaper-like bloodlust invariably returned full force.

 _Vile bastards_ , she'd told herself as she snuffed out one life after another. _Killers, all. They have to be stopped._

 _It's me or them._

All true. And yet...

The Englishwoman closed her eyes and confronted the beast within, a photographic negative of the heartbreakingly beautiful facade she presented to the outside world. Yamatai had brought it perilously close to the surface - and it had continued to voraciously rip away her thinning layers of humanity with every addition to her body count since.

"Yes," whispered the brunette as a bead of sweat trickled down her temple.

"You fucking bitch!" cursed Elsie. "Are you getting your 'jollies' from this?"

"See, that wasn't so hard," returned the Sidhe smoothly, ignoring the American's outburst.

"Your turn."

The archaeologist's eyes popped open.

She had to end this. For Elsie's sake. And for her own sanity.

What was next? Turning her back on Sam in her hour of greatest need? Leaving Alex behind in the Endurance?

But her ammunition was seriously lacking. What could she possibly fling back at her tormentor?

From behind, a sharp breath of realization.

"Lara! Her name!"

"No help from the gallery!" exclaimed the Sidhe, shooting the blonde a warning glare.

Lara frowned. "What?"

"Ask - hurg-"

The American's voice quickly degenerated into a serious of violent, hacking coughs.

The brunette spun on her heel; Elsie was in distress, arms folded against her midsection.

Lara whirled back on the Sidhe. "What are you doing? Stop it!"

The girl made a casual wave, and the blonde instantly drew in heaving gulps of air.

"Try that again," warned the Sidhe, "And perhaps you'd like to experience drowning for real."

"Don't!" pleaded the brunette. "Don't hurt her!"

"Don't think...she can," gasped Elsie. "T'swhy...she needed you..."

Lara's gaze alternated in rapid succession between the two women.

"I don't underst-"

"Your turn," repeated the girl, the brunette noting a twinge of impatience - or perhaps agitation? - in her captor's tone. "Pose your question."

Lara's swallowed her bottom lip as she considered her options, limited as they were. It seemed nonsensical, trivial even - but Elsie's suggestion seemed to have subtly rattled the fey woman.

She had nothing else: the Englishwoman would put her faith in her friend.

"What is your name?"

"That's not a valid question," returned the girl instantly. "You lose your turn."

The brunette pressed on, sensing an advantage. "Show me the rule that explains certain questions are off limits."

The Sidhe's expression became stony. 

"I thought so," returned the Englishwoman. "Answer or forfeit."

Her tormentor's previously unassailable confidence quickly eroded, replaced with a nervous anxiety as she quickly paced back and forth among the stones.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking!"

"You've beaten her, Lara," voiced Elsie with palpable relief. "It doesn't matter what she does now..."

"Hush!"

Lara frowned. "Explain."

"Legend holds that to know the true name of a fey gives one complete power over it," voiced the blonde. "They would never reveal it to a mortal...if she did, she would be forced to do your bidding, and if she doesn't, she loses the game. Either way..."

Lara turned back to the girl; the Sidhe's grim expression was admission enough of the truth of the blonde's words.

"So then," pressed the archeologist, "I take it you forfeit? Or are you seriously willing to spend the next several years cleaning the Manor?"

The girl slowly drew back. A slow rumble filled the air.

Shapes began emerging from the trees. Grey, indistinct at first, gradually coalescing into recognizable shapes.

The nine women from the ritual - and gazing at Lara with expressions that could best be described as chilling.

"I'll remind you that you agreed to this," said the brunette, addressing the girl. "We've won. You have to uphold -"

The Sidhe swung an arm diagonally as though slashing through a drapery.

The archaeologist was plunged into blackness.


	11. Decisions

A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 11

A tiny hand stretched out before Lara - her own.

Speckled in blood.

No, wait - a fresh drop dripped on her thumb, having fallen from the brush head.

 _Paint...?_

Another hand - larger, and considerably less splattered - loomed into view, clutching a pungent rag that reeked of acetone. A muffled laugh as the rag began dabbing her cheeks.

"You little Munchkin...hold still, you're more red than pink..."

A face filled her field of view, brown eyes soft and loving. She instantly recognized the woman's beautiful features.

Lara gasped.

 _Mother...?_

Her eyes popped open to blue skies.

Quickly shooting up to a sitting position, Lara desperately reached out - only to find herself clutching air.

 _No..._

The fluttering of reeds and distant chirping of birds brought the brunette to stark reality. Lara sat unmoving, struggling to bring her rapid breathing down to a more manageable rate.

The memory had seemed so _vivid_...but of course it was not to be.

The Englishwoman slowly took in her surroundings. She was at the edge of a narrow, winding gravel road, flanked on either side by waist-high dry stone walls. To her right stood her motorcycle, still propped up on its kickstand exactly where she'd left it. A few feet beyond lay a toppled scooter, partly obscured by the thick roadside grasses.

Perched atop the stone wall across from her was a lone magpie, eyeing her curiously.

A low groan reached the brunette's ears. There followed a faint stirring from the sedges to her left.

 _Elsie!_

Scuttling over on hands and knees, the brunette started to help the blonde to a sitting position, only to jerk back at the American's yelp of pain.

"Shit…sorry!"

Elsie grimaced as she gingerly propped herself against the stone wall, careful to avoid jostling her shattered ankle.

Lara brushed straying blonde locks from the American's eyes. "Are you all right? I mean, aside from…"

Elsie nodded as she settled into the deep grass, exhaling in relief.

Lara bit her lip. The lingering redness in the blonde's eyes underlined the young woman's emotional exhaustion.

But she was alive.

The brunette rocked back on her heels and threw a glance in the direction of the hill in the distance: it looked unremarkable as ever, perfectly concealing its supernatural nature.

The tension in the brunette' shoulders ebbed slightly: the Sidhe had evidently kept their word, much to the Englishwoman's relief.

She settled down next to her companion, the blonde staring glassy-eyed at her injured foot.

Lara ventured into the uncomfortable silence.

"Elsie -"

"Lara -"

A shared hesitation.

"You go first," chimed the two in unison.

The friends shared an awkward chortle.

Elsie broke the deadlock. She turned to the archaeologist, grey eyes full of concern. "Are you going to be okay?"

" _Me?_ " replied Lara incredulously. "I'm not the one with a broken foot."

"Never mind that," returned the blonde. "Lara, I'm worried how you're dealing with what happened back there. Those questions..."

Lara turned away and smoothed out the creases in her pant leg. "I'll be fine."

"Bullshit," countered the American forcefully. "You've been fighting with yourself ever since I met you. You don't enjoy killing any more than I enjoy shepherd's pie."

Lara swallowed.

"You forget, Elsie," voiced the brunette sadly. "She would've called me out on a lie. I _had_ to be truthful...hard as it might be for you to accept that..."

The blonde shook her head. "She accepted it only because you've so utterly convinced yourself you're some sort of soulless killing machine. But then that's your coping mechanism, isn't it? You wrestle with that guilt over and over until it turns into self-loathing. It's how you keep yourself from going off the deep end."

The brunette opened her mouth and closed it again.

Elsie gingerly shifted closer until their hips touched.

"Look...do you really think I'd hang out for a second with with someone who gets her kicks from taking lives? If you won't give yourself some credit then at least throw a little my way."

Lara tugged at the cotton fabric covering her knee. "We all make questionable decisions in life."

"Being your friend is _not_ a questionable decision," stated the blonde. "You know Lara, you might have great instincts where archaeology is concerned, but when it comes to matters of the Human condition you trip up rather easily. Need I remind you it was your lack of trust that got us into this mess?"

Lara turned to the blonde, brown eyes earnest. "About that...I want you to promise you'll never put yourself at risk for me again."

The American stilled. "Nice segue."

"Elsie -"

"I can't promise that."

Lara frowned.

"Do you value your life so little?"

A hard swallow. "Of course not. I just...value yours more, is all."

Lara turned to gaze at the magpie pruning its feathers. "I don't know if I can accept that."

"You don't have a choice," returned the American, nudging her companion. "You may as well not accept the air we breathe."

The brunette shook her head. "You can't just...throw your life away..."

"I was hardly doing that," countered the blonde. "I think I was getting a pretty good return, all things considered."

Painful memories loomed from the shadows; Lara struggled to push them back into the abyss lest they overwhelm her inner defenses.

"Have you stopped for a moment to consider that every time we've spent together...your life has been in peril?"

Elsie huffed. "That's not true. Look at just last Christmas, we got through that without so much as a scratch."

"Please don't trivialize this," said the brunette. "You very nearly died today."

"I'm not," replied the American. "But Lara, you're nothing if not fatalistic. We could've avoided all this if you'd just trusted me, like you said you would...this was hardly fated to happen."

"I..."

The archaeologist winced at the fresh pang of guilt. There was no denying the the blonde's statement. But there was a more disturbing truth to consider - one she'd struggled with ever since Yamatai.

The brunette drew a deep breath. "Elsie...I'm terrified what might happen...if you and I keep on..."

The American entwined her free hand with the archaeologist's.

"Don't even think about going there," warned Elsie. "Sam told me how you two hardly spoke for almost two years, and how that tore her up more than that Himiko bitch ever could. I won't let you make that mistake again."

Lara struggled to keep her eyes from welling.

"I only wanted to keep her safe," rasped the brunette. "But in the end...I failed even at that..."

Elsie nudged the archaeologist's shoulder with her own.

"Look, we both know danger follows you like a goddamned shadow. So what? I don't give a flying fuck...the Reaper can kiss my ass."

The corners of Lara's mouth twitched.

"The Boatman would find you rather insolent, I think."

"I'd be his worst passenger ever," agreed the blonde, nodding. "He'd probably push me into the Styx halfway across."

"Or double the crossing fee."

"If he tried that I'd kick him in his bony balls."

Lara squeezed her companion's fingers between her own.

"All right," sighed the brunette. "I can see I won't dissuade you, so I'll drop it...on one condition."

Elsie's breathing slowed.

"Please...no haggis."

"No," agreed the Englishwoman. "But Elsie, I want you to stop holding yourself responsible for the choices of others."

The American's pale eyebrows rose sharply.

"Even if my actions factor into those choices?"

"Even if."

A pained frown: "I...I don't know, Lara...you're asking me not to have a conscience."

The brunette shook her head emphatically. "Of course not. I'm just asking you to show yourself the same consideration you reserve for others. You're no less deserving, believe me."

"That's ironic, coming from you."

"I have my moments."

The American settled her cheek against the brunette's shoulder.

"I guess...we both have our guilt bugaboos, huh..."

Lara blinked as an iridescent green damselfly shot past, the flutter from the tiny wings tickling Lara's brow. The tiny insect zipped across the road and began buzzing about the magpie.

The distant pastoral mixture of bird chirps and baying of sheep provided a decidedly idyllic backdrop as Lara basked in her companion's essence, a light breeze teasing the flaxen and chestnut fringes.

The brunette posed the question with careful delicateness: "What was her name?"

Silence.

 _Shit._

"Sorry," exhaled the Englishwoman. "I didn't mean to -"

"Maia," whispered the blonde. "She was a beautiful soul, Lara...you would've liked her."

"I'm sure I would have. I'm rather indebted to her, in fact."

Elsie shifted slightly. "How so?"

The brunette planted a kiss into the the mass of pale hair. "If it wasn't for her you and I would never have met...and I shudder to think of my life without you."

"That's...so sweet..."

Lara smiled. "It's thanks to you I no longer view blondes with instant suspicion."

The American chuckled. "Well, that's good. I'd hate to have to dye it."

"I'm not sure dark hair would suit you, anyway."

"Oh, it doesn't," confirmed the blonde. "Believe me."

"You've tried?"

"When I first moved to Maine," explained the American. "I'd been trying to change everything about myself...but as it turned out everyone thought I was sick all the time."

"Oh..."

Elsie sighed.

"Anyway...I suppose I'd better get Ivy's scooter back. I didn't leave a note, she probably thinks I stole it…"

"You can't ride in your condition," countered the brunette. "I'll take you to a hospital, we can worry about the scooter later."

"No, I can manage."

"Elsie, please. I'll take -"

Lara's attention was diverted to the far stone wall. The magpie was snapping at the damselfly, the insect buzzing around the bird as though determined to annoy the corvid.

Lara frowned. As the magpie snapped to the right, the insect would instantly zip off to the left, and vice-versa. There was a clear strategy to its movements, a deliberate pattern of avoidance that could not be explained by the random flutterings of an insect.

There was an intelligence behind it.

Lara tensed. "Elsie...I don't think we're alone..."

The blonde froze. "What...?"

The magpie cawed in irritation as it made several more futile stabs at the nagging damselfly.

"Lara, what's wro - holy shit!"

The corvid had hopped down to the ground before exploding in both size and shape, quickly adopting a humanoid form.

" - all right, _all right!_ Stop pestering me!"

Lara scrambled to her feet - and found herself facing the sharply-dressed Sidhe from the hilltop.

"Not you again," said the brunette, quickly interposing herself before her injured companion.

"Oh, stop fretting, Lara," said the girl with a dismissive wave as she sauntered up to the archaeologist. "You worry entirely too much sometimes."

Lara placed her fists on her hips. "I tend to do that when lives are at stake. Call it a quirk."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Well there aren't any lives on the line this time. Happy?"

"Then why are you here?"

The Sidhe nodded at the tiny faerie fluttering over her shoulder. "This one won't stop badgering me. I think she likes you two..."

Lara's eyes locked with the fae's. The faerie smiled.

A surge of reassurance coursed through the Englishwoman. Somehow, she trusted the tiny creature.

But her instinctive caution still moved her to interpose herself as the Sidhe tried to slip past.

The girl arched an eyebrow. "Do you really think you can stop me, Lara?"

"We'll see, won't we?" growled the archaeologist. "What do you want with her?"

"It's okay," voiced the blonde. "I...I don't think she's here to cause trouble."

"There, see?" nodded the Sidhe. "Good intuition, that one."

Lara didn't move. "Yes, well, she can be a little naive sometimes."

The girl crossed her arms. "And _you_ can be a little paranoid."

"Lara, please."

"Not until she tells me why she's here," voiced the brunette over her shoulder.

The Sidhe sighed. "Fine, then. Have it your way."

The girl's arms dropped to her sides. Lara readied herself as the Sidhe began to quickly grow in stature, looming half a head taller than the archaeologist.

She no longer held female form.

Lara drew in a sharp breath: before her stood a painfully recognizable form.

"You've got great instincts, girl," said Roth in his familiar gravelly voice. "You just have to trust them."

"Holy shit," breathed the blonde.

Lara steeled herself against the wellspring of emotions threatening to bubble up within her. Of course she knew it was all an illusion, and yet the sight of her mentor was heartbreaking - she had to fight an almost overpowering urge to fling herself at her old friend.

"Why are you doing this?" rasped the archaeologist, running a trembling hand back through her fringe. "You're not real."

'Roth' smiled at her, raising his hand to cup her chin with tough, calloused fingers. "I'm as real as you want me to be, girl...I've missed you."

"Is...is that Conrad?"

The adventurer scowled at the name. "Ugh...call me Roth, thanks. Never much cared for 'Conrad'."

Lara pulled back slightly, just enough to break the touch.

"It's not him, Elsie."

"I know, but...it kinda is too, isn't it?"

"I..."

There was no denying it. Every detail, from the familiar crinkles around the eyes to the silver hair, the dingy grey scarf, the nigh ever-present combat knife and ammunition pouches - physically, at least, it _was_ Roth.

"I'm here to help," voiced the Englishman.

The archaeologist shook her head. "No..."

At that moment the faerie fluttered up, her moss-clad feet hovering at the tip of Lara's tiny being nodded.

Elsie's voice, soft and comforting: "Lara, it's okay...please."

The brunette let out a breath of frustration. In her heart of hearts she knew she couldn't stop the Sidhe from doing whatever she wished, bravado notwithstanding.

Slowly and grudgingly, the Englishwoman stepped aside. But she hovered near her companion, unwilling to abandon all caution.

"Right then," said 'Roth' as he moved near and dropped down to one knee next to the injured blonde. "Let's see how bad it is..."

Lara swallowed. Every word, every movement was perfect. It was hard not believing her old friend was here, with her right now. But she had to stay focused.

The adventurer gently felt the American's shattered ankle. "Aye...ye did a good one here, Lara..."

The brunette crossed her arms self-consciously.

"She didn't mean to," interjected Elsie, wincing slightly. "Well, not out of malice, anyway."

Roth smiled at the American. "It's nothing I can't handle...here, hold still."

Elsie held her breath as the adventurer placed his palm over the fractured bone. For several seconds nothing seemed to happen, until finally 'Roth' drew back on his haunches.

"There, good as new."

Elsie exhaled, echoing Lara's relief. Bracing her palms against the ground in anticipation of a jabbing pain, she tentatively twisted her foot back and forth.

Pale eyes popped. "It doesn't hurt!"

"Don't see why it would," countered the ex-Marine. "Nuttin' wrong with it."

Still not entirely convinced, the blonde grasped handholds along the stone wall and pulled herself up, being careful not to put any weight on her injured foot.

"Go on," urged 'Roth' as he got to his feet. "Try it out."

Elsie tested the ankle by bracing her foot against the ground, lightly at first, and then with gradually increasing force.

She looked to Lara and smiled.

"Are you -"

The blonde flung herself at the adventurer, wrapping her arms as best she could around the burly Englishman's midsection.

"Thank you so much!"

'Roth' smiled and patted the blonde's disheveled mane. "My pleasure, girl...I'm glad Lara has someone like you in her life. She doesn't make friends easily, sad to say."

The brunette fought the urge to pull her friend away.

"He's not real, Elsie," warned the archaeologist.

"He's real enough for me," breathed the blonde, as she continued hugging the ex-Marine. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

Lara could no longer restrain herself. Grasping her companion's arm, she forcibly pulled the blonde away from the adventurer.

"Hey! What the fuck!?"

"It's all right," voiced 'Roth' consolingly. "It's only natural she'd be protective of those she has left."

"I think I can be forgiven for that," shot back the brunette.

"Aye," agreed the adventurer.

Try as she might, Lara found it difficult to maintain a defiant stance before the form of her old mentor - her inability to make eye contact for more than a few seconds did nothing to help.

"Well, it's time I get going," said Roth, looking at the brunette with disturbingly convincing tenderness. "It was so good seeing you again, Lara. If only your mother could see how you turned out...she'd be so proud of you."

 _Oh no you don't..._

Lara spun on her heel, turning her back on the adventurer. She crossed her arms and fought to beat down the swelling emotions within her.

"Just...go," rasped the archaeologist.

"Lara, for God's sake..."

"He's not real!" snapped the brunette.

"Maybe not, but...what's the harm?" implored the blonde gently. "He...she...no one's trying to hurt you."

Lara had to bite her bottom lip to prevent it from quivering.

"I never really got to say goodbye," voiced 'Roth' sadly. "Not a proper one, at least. I don't have many regrets, but...that was definitely one of them."

The flock of sheep in the distance were becoming blurred with tears.

 _It's not him...he's not here...he's gone._

Lingering memories drew back into consciousness: Roth's smile as she excitedly proffered her dirt-encrusted magatama for inspection. The ex-Marine's frankly shocked expression at Paddington Station. The muted thud of Mathias' hatchet, intended for her. Flames licking at the adventurer's motionless form atop the improvised pyre -

The brunette clasped a hand across her mouth as her shoulders began shaking.

The gravelly voice: _You're a Croft._

It was too much. Too much loss. Too much pain.

She turned and flung herself at the adventurer, 'Roth' catching her in a heartfelt embrace.

Lara buried her face in the adventurer's scarf, the scent of dried sweat both familiar and haunting.

"Missed you...so much..."

"Aye," echoed Roth as he gently caressed the back of the brunette's head. "I wish I could've been there for you these last few years...you've put so much weight on your shoulders, girl..."

Lara blubbered into the dingy cotton. "No choice...so much...at stake..."

The large palm pressed against the small of her back.

"Just don't try to go it alone, Lara," counseled the Englishman. "You have good people in your life. You may not share blood with 'em, but they're your family regardless...and that's what really matters, in the end. Hold tight to that, and you'll never be alone."

Lara drew in shuddering breaths, vaguely aware that the form she was pressed against was quickly dissipating.

"Don't go," whispered the brunette. "Please."

But there was no use. She knew her mentor could never truly return - the hopeless quest for immortality would forever remain just that.

She stumbled slightly as her arms found themselves clutching air. The archaeologist dropped her limbs limply to her sides.

Aside from Elsie, they were alone.

The blonde approached cautiously.

"Hey...you okay?"

The brunette clumsily wiped her eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, I...I just don't know what she was playing at..."

Elsie began gently stroking the moistness from the Englishwoman's cheeks. "I don't think she was playing at anything."

Lara closed her eyes and took long, measured breaths, drawing comfort from the soothing touches.

"I don't understand those...people..."

"I don't think we're meant to," said Elsie softly. "Legends often describe them as decidedly fickle. But for what it's worth, I think she was being genuine. Maybe all that back there was for their benefit..."

When Lara opened her eyes the blonde's face filled her field of view, pale eyes soft and full of concern.

"Are you su-"

Lara abruptly pulled her friend into an embrace, clutching her friend's slender form close.

"I'm so very glad you're all right," rasped the brunette, clutching the blonde's slender form close. "I don't know what I would've done had I lost you...if...if..."

"It's okay, I'm right here," cooed Elsie. "No harm done...I'm just sorry we couldn't get that book."

The brunette squeezed the blonde harder.

"I'll manage."

"I hope so...we're gonna have quite the story to tell Sam, won't we?"

Lara laughed softly. "That we will."

~ oOo ~

Elsie tossed her toothbrush case into her bag in the corner of the bedroom. Lara hadn't moved from the open window: with her crossed arms resting atop the windowsill, she was still quietly surveying the surrounding countryside, apparently lost in thought – not that the blonde could blame her.

"Still coming down, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," acknowledged the archaeologist. Beyond the open window, the insistent drizzle showed no signs of abatement.

The American sighed. The dreary weather _was_ rather appropriate, considering this was to be their last day together, possibly for months.

Elsie sauntered over to the bedroom window and pressed herself against her companion, snaking her arms around the Englishwoman's waist.

"You okay?" cooed the blonde, resting her chin against the brunette's shoulder. "You've been quiet. I mean more than usual."

"Yes, I've just...been thinking about yesterday," returned the Englishwoman softly.

"You and I both," agreed Elsie. "It's going to take a good while just to come to terms with what happened...to say nothing of seeing actual freaking faeries."

Lara chuckled. "That too."

"I have to ask…do you _ever_ get used to the supernatural shit?"

"Would _you?_ "

"Well when you put it that way..."

Elsie slipped her right hand under the hem of the brunette's shirt, lightly stroking the firm flesh underneath.

"Would you like to stay in today?" asked the blonde. "You know...just talk?"

Lara smiled. "I'd like that."

Elsie pulled her arm tighter against the Englishwoman's waist, drawing the perfectly shaped backside into her crotch.

"God, you feel so good," breathed the blonde, pressing her lips to her companion's nape.

The archaeologist let out a soft groan – more of a purr, really. The sound further stoked the blonde's desire, shifting her legs wider to draw the brunette further into her.

"Damn girl, I swear you were made in a fucking lab..."

A soft laugh. "I think you forgot your strap-on."

Elsie gasped and pushed off from the brunette, clasping a hand over her mouth in disbelief.

"Oh my God, from the mouth of babes!"

Lara turned to face the blonde.

"Please, I'm hardly _that_ ," protested the brunette.

"Are you kidding?" countered the blonde. "Lara Croft talking about dildos...that's akin to the Queen talking about drag racing or weenie roasts. Just...wow."

"I'll remind you I'm not royalty," said the Englishwoman as she pushed off from the windowsill and slid past the American.

The brunette slowly swung the bedroom door until it closed with a pronounced _click_. Turning the latch to the locked position, she turned back to her companion.

Elsie watched as Lara's hands reached back behind her head and fiddled with her ponytail. The brunette produced a long grey elastic which she then lobbed at the blonde.

The American never reacted: the rubber band bounced off her shoulder and flopped silently to the floor.

"Nice catch."

Elsie stared open-mouthed at the archaeologist. The brunette's thick chestnut mane was loose, perfectly framing her model-like features and cascading down onto her shoulders.

The American's heart throbbed. "Geezus, Lara..."

The Englishwoman took a step forward and paused. "You all right?"

It took several seconds for the brunette's question to register.

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" exclaimed Elsie as she ran the back of her against the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, just - excuse the drool here – it's just, I was beginning to think that thing never came off."

Lara smiled with relief and resumed her advance, coming before the blonde.

"Only on special occasions," breathed the brunette as she pressed against the American. "What saw we make this day worthy of remembrance?"

Elsie slid her arms up the archaeologist's back, marvelling at the rapturous sight before her.

"I thought you wanted to talk," said the blonde.

"Later," whispered the Englishwoman.

Lara shifted her weight so that she fell back-first onto the bed, her grip ensuring that Elsie landed atop the brunette.

The American smiled impishly. "We're really gonna dirty up their sheets, aren't we?"

Lara swallowed deeply as Elsie began nuzzling her cleavage.

"I don't expect they'll be salvageable."

~ oOo ~

The Flying Egg was bustling with activity, Heathrow's early morning denizens having filled the restaurant to capacity. But having arrived a good two and a half hours before Elsie's flight had enabled them to snag a booth.

" - so of course, that's all you hear about, but there are - Elsie? You okay?"

The blonde nodded as she set her glass of orange juice onto the table, her pale features contorted in disgust.

"Yeah, fine, thanks."

Sam frowned at her seat mate. "Really? You look like you just choked down a Cane Toad."

Across the table Lara gazed at the blonde with concern. "Are you coming down with something?"

"I told you, I'm fine!" protested Elsie. "And by the way, we hardly corner the market on weirdoes. You Brits have some real doozies, too...what about that dude who eats bats?"

Lara blinked. "That... _who?_ "

Sam chuckled as she sliced a piece of egg with the edge of her fork. "I think she means Ozzy Osbourne."

Lara's fork clattered onto her plate.

"Oh, for God's sake, he does _not_ eat bats!"

"Sure he does," countered the blonde. "Everybody knows that."

"It's apocryphal, Elsie!" argued the Englishwoman. "What is it with you and these bizarre culinary fetishes?"

"He's gotten worse through the years," returned the American as she forked a chunk of sausage into her mouth. "Now he eats nothing but bats. I saw it once on a documentary about rock legends."

Lara rolled her eyes and turned to the filmmaker. "Oh, for - Sam, back me on this, will you?"

The Asian-American fought to suppress a giggle. "Actually, sweetie, I think she's right."

Brown eyes popped. "What? Of course she isn't right!"

Elsie smiled knowingly. "Told ya."

"He was a guest on a cooking show a few years ago," continued the filmmaker. "They were demonstrating various ways to prepare and cook bats."

"I saw that!" exclaimed the blonde. "I liked the bat burgers, personally."

"I was partial to the Bat à l'Orange, myself," voiced Sam, twisting her foot around the table leg in an effort to keep from bursting out in mirth.

"Oh, that did look good," agreed Elsie, nodding enthusiastically. "But the requirement for Cornish Game Bats kinda spoiled it for me. Not exactly easy to get in Maine."

"Well there's always bat pie, or the classic bat and cheese sandwich...you seem like a bat and potatoes kind of girl."

Lara drummed her fingers against the table, her expression icy. "Are you two quite done?"

The two Americans burst into fits of laughter, leaning against each other for mutual support.

"Oh, sweetie," laughed Sam once the two had recovered sufficiently to converse, "We only rib you 'cause we love you, you know that!"

"Hmph."

"Aww, don't be mad," cooed the blonde as she leaned forward with a forkful of hash browns. "Here's a peace offering. Open wide…"

The brunette kept her mouth resolutely shut as she eyed the American icily.

"Oh c'mon," breathed Elsie, her fork gently prodding the brunette's plush lips. "You opened wide for me plenty of times yesterday."

Sam clasped a hand over her mouth and guffawed. "Oh my God!"

Lara's cheeks flushed furiously. "Could you be a _little_ less overt? There are children about! "

"Fine," returned the blonde. "You granted me ingress on numerous occasions in the recent past...better?"

Sam's forehead struck the table with a muffled _thunk_.

"You little imp."

"Sticks and stones. Now eat up."

Sam's shoulders quivered. "God, you two..."

"I make you a counter-proposal," returned Lara. "I'll accept your offering if you take a good swig from your juice."

The blonde frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Take it or leave it, as they say."

A brief hesitation. Elsie dropped her fork onto her plate. "Fine."

Sam's head popped up as Elsie slowly brought the glass to her lips, holding the vessel in her peculiar two-handed fashion.

"Go on," urged Lara. "And no sips...I want to see that glass half empty."

The blonde's eyes squinted shut in poorly disguised disgust as she took several deep swallows, her shoulders convulsing in confirmation.

"There," gasped Elsie as she set the drink back onto the table with a bang. "Happy?"

Sam frowned as she grabbed the glass. "What the hell?"

She ran it back and forth under her nose: nothing smelled amiss. "What wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's fine," replied the blonde.

Sam took a tentative sip. The familiar citrusy tang tickled her tongue. It was a taste typical of orange juice.

Lara looked at the filmmaker. "Well?"

Sam shrugged in confusion. "It's fine, so far as I can tell."

She turned to Elsie. "I'm curious, why'd you order something you hate?"

"I _don't_ hate it," protested the blonde.

"Seriously? You can barely drink it without throwing up."

"I...I just don't like pulp, is all."

Sam huffed. "Why didn't you mention that when he took our orders?"

"I forgot."

"So get him to change it."

"It's fine! I don't want to be a bother."

Sam's hand shot up, waving at their server who was currently taking orders at a table halfway down the crowded restaurant. "Excuse me...garçon!"

Elsie hurriedly grabbed the filmmaker's sleeve and jerked her hand back down. "It's fine! Really, I'll finish it."

"And you say _I'm_ a masochist," remarked the brunette, arching an eyebrow.

"It's not a big deal," continued the blonde, tugging the glass from the filmmaker's grasp. "Besides pulp is good for you..."

She took a fresh gulp - and heaved.

"Gah. There, see? Totally fine..."

Sam shook her head in disbelief. "Yeah, you looked like you really relished that. You're a nut, you know?"

Elsie snaked an arm around Sam's neck and pressed her cheek to the filmmaker's.

"Guilty as charged...and I'm gonna miss you guys something fierce."

Sam glanced at the archaeologist.

It was time.

"Well, about that...we, um, have a proposal of sorts..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah...Lara told me your story, see..."

Elsie instantly broke the hug and drew back. Sam sensed something was off – the blonde had raised her shields.

"Hey look, it's nothing to be ashamed of," added the filmmaker hastily. "It was hardly your fault, you were just a victim of circumstance."

Elsie threw an accusatory look at the brunette. "I can't believe this...you promised!"

Lara's eyes widened. "No...no, Elsie, it's not what you think..."

Sam looked from blonde to brunette and back again.

"Um...are we still talking about your stunt career?"

Elsie froze.

"Oh..."

Sam glanced at Lara. She'd nearly treaded on some tabooed subject, that much was obvious – but what?

The table had become cloaked in uncomfortable silence.

"Anyway, I've kept a few contacts in the filmmaking industry," resumed the Asian-American, determined to salvage the situation. "I have a friend at a production company that's looking for someone experienced in stuntwork, preferably female. So naturally I thought of you."

Elsie's shoulders sagged slightly with an odd mix of relief and disappointment. "Oh...well, that's real sweet of you, Sam, but my days in the business are behind me. The insurance people...they think I'm a liability, see."

Sam nodded. "I know, Lara explained it to me...but that's why this would be perfect for you, it's an assistant stunt coordinator position."

The blonde blinked. "Say again?"

"Assistant stunt coordinator. So, no physical required."

Elsie looked as though she'd just been struck by a stasis ray.

"Of course, that doesn't mean it's a guarantee," added Sam. "But, they are looking for someone with a minimum of five years' experience in the field, which I understand you have, so I put in a good word for you. Now you don't have to make a decision right away, the position doesn't become available until November anyway."

The blonde's blank expression hadn't wavered. Was she even breathing?

"Hello, Earth to Elsie..."

"Sorry," replied the blonde hoarsely. "I just...I figured that chapter of my life was over and done with."

"See, it doesn't have to be," said Sam, smiling. "Should I tell him you're interested?"

"Yes!" exclaimed the blonde, her voice strained with emotion. "Yes, I'm definitely interested!"

"Sam..."

"Oh!" added the filmmaker, "I should point out, there is one caveat."

"Two, actually," added Lara.

"Oh, right," amended Sam. "First, it's a full-time job."

Elsie's pale eyebrows rose.

"Full...time?"

Sam nodded. "I don't know how you feel about leaving your job at the book store, but -"

"Book gallery," interjected the archaeologist.

"Gallery, sorry," said the filmmaker, giving the brunette a sideways look. "And two...the job is based here in London."

Elsie slowly slouched back against the leatherette backrest.

"London," breathed the blonde, almost disbelievingly.

"There would be some travel, of course," explained the filmmaker. "But most of your time would be spent here in the UK."

Elsie and Lara exchanged a look.

"But...but how..."

"You could stay with us," said Sam, anticipating the blonde's question. "There's plenty of room at the Manor, and the commute wouldn't be too bad, so..."

Elsie fixed her gaze on the filmmaker. "You...you'd let me live with you?"

"Well of course!" replied the filmmaker brightly. "We're family, right?"

The blonde stared at Sam for several moments.

Then she burst into tears.


	12. Home

A NUMBERS GAME, Epilogue

Elsie flopped back against the old wooden door until the century-old latch popped into its groove with a familiar _click_. Dropping her travel bag onto the floor, she closed her eyes took in her home's familiar scents.

 _Home..._

The very notion had occupied her mind since early that morning; how could it not? It would be a life changing experience - if she chose that particular path.

She'd debated the pros and cons of Lara and Sam's offer ad nauseam, but was no closer to a decision now than she was when the Airbus lifted off from Heathrow. If there was any silver lining it was that her preoccupation had served to at least partly blunt the stress of flying.

There was so much - almost too much - to consider. To accept would mean leaving behind the life she'd painstakingly built up over the last several years, to say nothing of her career at the Gallery and the opportunities it presented. And the friendships she had cultivated therein.

 _Gellis._

The older woman had been a virtual sister to Elsie ever since she'd first set foot in Portland almost six years before - she'd had the blonde's back since day one. Would she ever even see her again?

The notion was almost too painful to consider.

And then there was her mother - already separated by thousands of miles, moving to the other side of the planet would hardly make get-togethers any easier.

Nathan. Her neighbourhood. Little Sophie.

Even her landlady, crazy as it seemed.

Six years of hard-earned life.

Independence.

Of course, it wouldn't be the first time she'd moved thousands of miles - but this time she would be running _towards_ something rather than from it.

She slowly shook her head. Staying with - no, scratch that - _living_ with Lara and Sam: It hardly seemed possible.

The carrot being dangled before her was so very tantalizing...it has hard to remain objective.

 _Damn..._

Elsie sighed and pushed off from the door; she needed a break from the inner turmoil that had churned through her mind all morning. She was acutely aware of the dangers of overthinking.

A nice glass of fresh milk would undoubtedly help settle her anxiety - not that powdered crap .

Elsie shuffled past the living room entrance and stopped. Taking a step back, she gped at the figure sprawled out on her couch.

There, at what had become something of her default position, was Doppie, book propped up against her bent legs.

"Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were working."

The redhead gave her a brief glance before returning her gaze to the page.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" pressed the blonde, drawing into he room. "I had to take a cab from the airport."

The doppelgänger gave no reaction.

Elsie frowned. "Hey...are you pissed at me or something?"

The redhead quietly turned a page, golden-yellow eyes busily scanning fresh lines of text.

The blonde ran a hand back through her hair.

"Okay, I don't know what's eating you, but I'm tired and all lagged out, so I'll deal with this later."

Elsie turned her back on the doppelgänger and made for the kitchen. She was in the process of pouring herself a glass of milk when her eye was drawn to her potted philodendron on the windowsill: the tiny plant's leaves were greyish-green and alarmingly shriveled.

 _What the Hell?_

She spun around to the small bowl of violets that sat on the shelf in the breakfast nook: the dark petals were crumpled - perhaps beyond saving.

 _Dammit!_

Elsie set her milk on the counter and fetched a measuring cup from the cupboard.

"For fuck's sake, Doppie!" lamented the blonde as she twisted the sink faucet, the ancient pipes rattling for several seconds before producing desperately needed water. "Didn't you feed the plants at all?"

"They're your hobby, not mine," returned the doppelgänger from the living room.

 _So NOW she talks..._

Elsie ran from room to room, adding the overdue hydration to her suffering greenery, knowing some were likely too far gone.

Having taken care of the immediate crisis, the blonde returned to the kitchen and took a long drink of cool milk.

 _Okay...just calm down,_ mused the blonde, closing her eyes and moderating her breathing. _It's not the end of the world..._

But at the same time, Elsie suspected the doppelgänger's neglect had been deliberate.

 _What's gotten into her? Is she that pissed that I left her alone for a week?_

Elsie continued to hover at the kitchen window and take slow, intermittent gulps, the familiar ritual gradually easing her frustration.

Setting the empty glass onto the counter the blonde took a deep breath to settle herself. It was time to face the music - whatever tune Doppie was playing.

Striding purposefully into the living room, the blonde's forcefulness suddenly evaporated as she found herself alone. The book the redhead had been reading was on the coffee table, closed.

 _What the fuck...where is she?_

She checked her tiny study. Then the bathroom.

Nothing.

Making her way down the short hall, Elsie peered inside her bedroom. There, splayed out on the top bunk and facing the wall, was the familiar form of the redhead.

Elsie drew into the room and frowned. "Doppie?"

No answer.

Grasping the rungs of the ladder, the blonde slowly climbed until her head was level with the top bunk.

"Hey...you okay?"

The redhead remained resolutely silent and unmoving. Elsie bit her lip - something was obviously amiss.

The blonde crawled into the bunk and settled in behind the doppelgänger.

"Go away," whispered the redhead.

"Fat chance," returned Elsie, cupping Doppie's shoulder consolingly.

"You will."

Elsie blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

No response was forthcoming from her bunkmate. Elsie snuggled closer and spooned the doppelgänger's form.

"Come on, tell me what's eating you...you're not doing yourself any favors by holding back -"

"You intend to forsake me," croaked the doppelgänger.

"What? Of course not!"

"Do not deny it," continued the redhead, her voice strained with emotion. "I overheard Samantha...she and Lara intend for you to live with them."

Elsie chewed her lip at the dawning realization.

 _Fuck...she's been sitting on this all week..._

"No...Doppie, no, it's not like that -"

"There was no mistaking her intent," said the doppelgänger darkly.

"I'm not denying that," countered the blonde, pressing into the redhead's ponytail. "But you've only got half the story. One, I'm not even remotely close to making a decision, and two, do you really think I'd leave you behind?"

Elsie waited, letting the words sink in.

"You...would take me with you?"

"In a New York minute," affirmed the blonde. "We're in this together, remember?"

Elsie could hear the hard swallow - she'd struck an emotional chord.

"I did not know," confessed the redhead. "But Lara would never agree. It is why she sent me here...my presence would be too great a risk."

Elsie slowly ran her hand up and down the doppelgänger's arm. "Yeah, well, I asked her specifically about that...she's game to give it a go. She knows we're a package deal."

Doppie slowly turned to face the blonde, her golden-yellow eyes wide.

Elsie smiled.

"We'd just have to be careful, is all. But we can make it work. That's if I even go, so stop worrying, will ya?"

"I..."

The blonde witnessed a surge of relief course through the doppelgänger. Elsie cupped the redhead's cheek.

"You'll never be alone," said the blonde softly. "Friends, remember?"

A single tear slowly trickled from the corner of the redhead's eye before disappearing into the pillow cloth.

"I remember..."

"Then it's settled," returned Elsie with a grin. "Come on, let's eat, I'm famished!"

Elsie rolled over and smoothly dropped to the floor.

"Eat?"

"Airplane food sucks," explained Elsie as she made her way down the hall. "I don't know how people eat that slop."

A faint voice from her bedroom. "What will you make?"

"Dunno yet," returned the blonde as she scampered into the kitchen and opened the pantry.

Elsie gasped in disbelief, mouth agape.

"What the -"

Every inch of the cupboard had been crammed with cartons of pancake mix and bottles of maple syrup.

"DOPPPIIIEEE!"

~ oOo ~

Elsie's eyelids fluttered open to utter darkness.

It was not so very long ago when such conditions would've caused an almost crippling spike in the blonde's anxiety. But not this time.

Entwined in a mass of limbs, pillows and blankets, Elsie couldn't even determine what direction she was facing, the huge Caesar bed easily accommodating her form with room to spare on all sides. She briefly wondered what time it was before quickly sweeping the thought from her consciousness - morning would come in its own good time.

The back of a hand flopped limply against her forehead: in the pitch blackness, there was no telling who it belonged to. But it mattered not - Elsie loved them all.

Taking the mystery hand in hers, Elsie kissed the smooth dorsal skin before entwining her fingers. There followed a brief stir of consciousness as the interloper's fingers gently squeezed back in response before settling back into slumber.

Elsie closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, pressing the clasped hands to her chest.

For truly the first time in her life, she was home.


End file.
